New Generation
by MikiMoke
Summary: Forty years have passed since the events of Valentine's War, and a new threat has risen. Liz Evergreen, a young Shadowhunter in training, just wanted to leave New York the moment she turned eighteen. Instead, she finds herself caught up in this mess when her father - the new leader of the New York Institute - disappears without a trace. What more could a young Shadowhunter ask for?
1. Characters

**Here's the characters, I hope you enjoy the story :)**

**[EDIT] - I've added George and Mamoru's profiles here so that people have info on them, and you'll notice that a certain someone has the same fear as a certain Herondale boy *maniacal laugh***

**~Miki**

* * *

**NAME:** Lizabeth Evergreen

**NICKNAME:** Liz

**AGE:** 17

**GENDER: **Female

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN): **Shadowhunter

**PERSONALITY: **Kind of like a cheeky older sister, being the one to put humour in dark situations or hard times. She is a little stubborn, and tends to stand her ground when people challenge her over even the simplest things. She tends to take after her father, being the girl that looks forward to killing demons and sparring with her friends, and even finds the time to relax and cool down. Her anger can get the best of her, especially when people make fun of her family and friends. Mock her all you want, just don't mock those close to her... She has been known to get violent (ranging from "Uh-oh" to "Holy crap run!" in just minutes) and sometimes has to be held back when she gets this way. Her tutor often says that it will be her undoing, as there will be a day where no will be able to hold her back. But she is an all around great person to have on your side.

**NATIONALITY: **Italian/British

**FAMILY:** Lucinda Evergreen, mother, blonde hair and brown eyes; Amato Evergreen, father, brown hair, blue eyes

**BACKGROUND:** Liz was raised in Idris for half her life, and then was taken to America when her father found out that he was to tend to the New York Institute. There, she was raised alongside a few other Shadowhunters her age (most of which left for Idris when they were old enough). She spent most of her time training and getting better with her skills when using a scythe, and even spent most of her free time in the library in the Institute. It wasn't until new Shadowhunter children moved into the Institute that she started acting cheeky and big-sisterly.

**DESCRIPTION - **

**HAIR COLOUR:** Light brown

**HAIR STYLE:** At least waist length and straight, although cuts it to be much shorter later on

**EYE COLOUR:** Cobalt blue

**HEIGHT:** Average (I suck at height...)

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:** Brown leather jacket that cuts off above the stomach, black turtleneck, dark skinny jeans, black boots

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY): **Leather trousers, black shirt, combat boots

**FORMAL CLOTHES:** Light blue dress that reaches her knees and has a dark blue ribbon-belt. Strappless. Also had blue slip-on shoes.

**SLEEPING CLOTHES: **A long button down shirt and her underwear

**WEAPONS - **

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT): **A scythe that is about chin-length compared to her. Was made by the Iron Sisters and can be thrown like a boomarang. She is never seen demon-killing without it.

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):** Swords - she just can't get the hang of fighting with them, but has those bursts of genius that allow to her use them...and then she just loses it the next time she tries -.-'

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES: **Leaving people behind, her anger, her will to keep fighting, her stubborness, her claustrophobia

**STRENGTHS: **Her memory, her upper arm and lower body strength, quick reflexes, good with riddles

**LIKES: **Sleeping, cooking, training with her scythe, reading

**DISLIKES:** Work, demons, being told what to do, people who nag, people that think they're better than everyone, math

**SEXUALITY:** Straight

**LOVE INTEREST:** A guy that can rival her and start off as a good friend, retaining that friendly air even when they get into a relationship

**MISC:** Liz hates it when people call her "Lizzie" or natually assume her full name is "Elizabeth"

* * *

**NAME:** Blake Feuer

**NICKNAME:** He's known as Blake.

**AGE:** 16.

**GENDER:** Male

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):** Shadowhunter.

**PERSONALITY:** He's always smiling and never seems to be unhappy unless he's angry. He is polite and friendly with most people, but can be uncomfortable around certain boys. He has a very good way with words and a definite charm about him, but he never seems to pick up girls. He has an open sense of humour. Although he doesn't like to kill people, even if they are demons, he won't hesitate to kill something that is attacking any friends of his. Sometimes he can give short answers to questions, which makes people think he is hiding something. He is the perfect person for a negotiation situation and can seemingly get himself out of any situation through talking, unless it's combat.

**NATIONALITY:** French but he has lived in America since he was 10.

**FAMILY:** Gabriella Feuer – she has aged by formerly flawless skin, which has a slight tan to it and a thick French accent. She has baby blonde hair and Sapphire blue eyes (like Blake), basically, Blake couldn't look anything more like her unless he was a girl. Father – Unknown, Feuer is Gabriella's maiden name and she has never told Blake who his father is.

**BACKGROUND:** Blake lived in France for most of his life, with Gabriella as a very successful lawyer, using her looks, charm and way with words to make everyone pick her side over others. Although Blake doesn't know it, when they moved to America when he was 10, it was to escape his mother's past. Although she was open about the shadow hunter world and taught him everything she knew, she never let Blake go to Idris, in fear that he would be caught up in some trouble and never come back. She, herself, couldn't go back there without reliving bad memories. When he was 12, after constant hours of bugging his mother to tell him about Idris, she ended up buying him blade-studded Nunchuks, which are still his favourite weapon.

One day, when he was out practicing he caught sight of another Shadow Hunter, and since has been involved in their world with this other person/group of people (other OC's?).

**DESCRIPTION - **

**HAIR COLOUR:** Baby Blonde.

**HAIR STYLE:** Fauxhawk.

**EYE COLOUR:** Sapphire blue.

**HEIGHT:** 5'6" – He's like tall but slim.

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:** Grey thin-wool cardigan, plain black V-neck, black skinny jeans.

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):** Armoured shirt and trousers, with thick, padded hoodie – which has many pockets for knives, stele's and any other weapons/devices.

**FORMAL CLOTHES:** Creaseless white blazer with black lining and six buttons, white suit pants and some grey or black smart shoes. Also a pink tie with black stripes.

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:** I was thinking underwear, but maybe a graphic t-shirt if it's cold.

**WEAPONS - **

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):** Red and Gold, seemingly Oriental-patterned Nunchuks, one for each hand. They are extremely hard to break and made of solid gold, which will hurt when they connect.

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):** Anything too heavy that requires some sort of heavy lifting and less agility, the Nunchuks are all about agility and he is very agile himself, so they fit him perfectly.

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES:** He can be too sensitive, being taken advantage of because he's too nice. His constant worrying about his mother.

**STRENGTHS:** His agility, his speed and reactions (I guess that is part agility). He is good at memorizing small things because he thinks they can be helpful.

**LIKES:** Reading, listening to music (LOVE a bit of Frank Ocean ;)) writing to express himself, keeping in shape.

**DISLIKES:** Killing things, stuck up people, people who don't have faith in anything, egotists, anything to do with chemicals.

**SEXUALITY:** Gay (I thought it was obvious LOL)

**LOVE INTEREST:** A guy that can put up with him at his worst, is bigger than him in both height and muscle, and can make him feel better when he is down.

**MISC:** People that think reading is a waste of time. Also when people think he's younger than he is because he has such baby-ish facial features.

* * *

**NAME:**Desmira Thornleaf

**NICKNAME:**Dez. No one calls her Desmira, ever. Ev-er. Ever. Sometimes people call her Dezzy, but mainly they just stick to Dez.

**AGE:**17

**GENDER:**Female

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):**Shadowhunter

**PERSONALITY:**she's mischievous, cheeky, playful and devious. She hates rules, talks back to people, and if you make her angry or upset her she stays perfect cool, calm, cold and collected, but knows just what to do to hurt you. She's witty and can be snarky, and is a great liar. If she likes you then she's usually always the first sentence, unless you piss her off, but if she temporarily or just straight-out doesn't like you, she's the ice queen. She's sort of a wild one since she never really had her parents there to tame her, and is usually partying on weekends (though she snaps straight into SH mode when she needs to).

**NATIONALITY:**American

**FAMILY:**

Mother, Avalon Elsie, 46 – dark brown hair, matching dark eyes, and olive skin. She's stick-thin and very worn, always having the look of someone who's gone a week without sleep. She spends most of her time in bed and has been like this since Dex was 6. Dez refuses to believe there's something wrong with her mom because she doesn't want to be sent into foster care or for her mom to leave.

Her dad abandoned her and her mother as soon as her mother descended into this weird depression/coma-like state. He didn't look back. His name was Fabian, and that's where Dez's features come from. Avalon was a former Shadowhunter. Fabian was a mundane.

**BACKGROUND:**since she was only six years old she's been forced to fend for herself. Before that, her mother and her father were loving towards her and she was constantly happy. Then, gradually, Avalon's health and well-being sunk, and eventually Fabian left. His departure was abrupt, and he didn't even leave a note.

Dez has no explanation for what happened to Avalon, and it's not like she can just ask. She'd never get an answer. Maybe Avalon could be cursed, and Fabian left for good reason or something, and Dez could find this out and be determined to find out the truth and it could effect her behavior and storyline in, you know, the story. I don't know, whatever floats your boat right?

Her old next door neighbor, Loka, was also an ex-SH and helped Dez manage until she was twelve, but then Loka mysteriously disappeared and Dez was on her own once more.

**DESCRIPTION -**

**HAIR COLOUR:**dark blonde/dark gold

**HAIR STYLE:**it goes to the bottoms of her shoulder blades, and is center-parted. It's usually a little bit fluffed/teased, and tangles easily.

**EYE COLOUR:**greeny hazel.

**SKIN:**tanned and clear

**HEIGHT:**5'5

**BUILD:**she's slender, lithe and agile. Nimble and fast, lightweight weapons are her forte, along with impeccable aim, but heavy weapons are the opposite and she isn't the best with harsh brawn and combat (though she knows how to defend herself when she is weapon-less). She has a light layer of muscle and great endurance.

**OTHER APPEARANCE NOTES:**she has a white scar on her left cheek, another across her stomach, and another from her left collarbone to her right hip, as well as numerous small ones across her body, though these are faded and nearly invisible. The visible ones stand out against the tan of her skin. She also has a dimple in each cheek.

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:**black and white aztec leggings or trackpants or skinny jeans (of any color); tank tops or a tight, black long sleeved top or cropped tops (depending on the weather, but most often she's in tanks or crops); sometimes hoodies or a black hooded leather jacket, which finishes at about her mid-rib; black combat boots, Ugg boots or white canvas shoes, heels at parties or events; maybe her grey scarf. Dresses come with parties and events as well.

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):**tight black leather pants, black combat boots, black tank top, black belt loosely around her hips with her weapons and such slung in it, black leather fingerless elbow gloves.

**FORMAL CLOTHES:**bodycon, mixi or mini dresses with heels and varying amounts of jewelry, depending on the color and make of the dress.

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:**majorly oversized, faded navy T-shirt, orange boxer-shorts. Sometimes her Uggs and/or fluffy socks, but she takes them off before bed.

**WEAPONS -**

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):**thin, extremely sharp throwing knives. The blades and hilts are both a metallic white. Her next weapon in line after these is a uchigatana. She works best with lightweight weapons, and has great aim as well which is good for the throwing daggers, but can also be handy if she needs to use a bow and arrows.

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):**heavy weapons, such as great-swords, battle-axes, maces, etc. She's not built or trained for that sort of stuff.

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES:**heavy weapons, brawn, too-loud noises, too-bright colors/images/sights,

**STRENGTHS:**her stealth, speed, nimbleness, and aim. Also her heightened senses (though they can also be weaknesses), and skill with light weapons.

**LIKES:**boys, training, being lazy, sleeping, lounging around, sleeping, partying, sleeping, sleeping. She has this ability to fall asleep in the weirdest places and positions, although she's always wide awake during a fight. Once or twice she was found hiding out in one of the kitchen cupboards, fast asleep.

**DISLIKES:**dishonesty, stuck-ups,

**SEXUALITY:**straight, sometimes screws around with girls if she's drunk at parties or just feels like it, but she's not attracted to them

**LOVE INTEREST:**yes! But I don't know who. But romance is great! Thumbs-up for romance, yeah?

**MISC:**

* * *

**NAME:**Cassandra Tyme

**NICKNAME:**Cass, Cassie

**AGE:**17

**GENDER:**Female

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):**Shadowhunter

**PERSONALITY:**She likes to be around friends or alone. She tends to worry about people if they don't check in, she is very clever and tends to solve problems in a way no one thinks of, she is sarcastic and likes to joke around. Her worst flaw is that she doesn't listen to what people tell her to do she does her own hates it when people say she looks exactly like her mother.

**NATIONALITY:**French/ British

**FAMILY:**Mom, Alexandra Tyme, black hair and gold eyes. Father, Lucas, blonde hair and green eyes

**BACKGROUND:**she grew up in idris but her parents were having marital problems so the sent Cassandra away, but really she thinks her parents are getting a divorce, so then she is sent to the new york institute.

**DESCRIPTION -**

**HAIR COLOUR:**black

**HAIR STYLE:**mid-back curly

**EYE COLOUR:**gold

**HEIGHT:**5'7

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:**croped black leather jacket, a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):**her leather jacket, black shirt and black jeans

**FORMAL CLOTHES:**a lavender dress that has a sweet heart neckline that knee length and gold high heels

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:**a pink slip

**WEAPONS -**

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):**two knifes made by the iron sisters that she has on a belt at her waist

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):**a spear

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES:**friends, family and climbing

**STRENGTHS:**inteligence, swimming and fighting

**LIKES:**reading, watching supernatural and the color blue

**DISLIKES:**liars cheats and demons

**SEXUALITY:**Straight

**LOVE INTEREST:**a guy thats charming and charasmatic

**MISC:** pm if you need anything

* * *

**NAME:**Riley (short for Rilanńê) Belleloc

**NICKNAME:**None

**AGE:**16

**GENDER:**Female

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):**Shadowhunter

**PERSONALITY:**Riley is determined, clever, witty, independant, and has the type of smile that when you see her smile you smile back. She is pretty chill though and in arguments she gets all calm and reasonable because she had to train herself not to get angry when her siblings did/broke something, but she can make you feel ashamed by how forgiving she is (though believe her friends, she knows how to hold a grudge when she wants to). She is very firm in her beliefs but they can change when new details are added. She is bold and a peoples person, with nerves of steel and always ready to try new and is the type to get right to the point. She is a sweetheart though and is well mannered; saying please, thank you, and usually the one to say watch your language on the more extreme of dirty words. She has a habit of crossing the street when cars are slowing down saying "they'll stop if they don't want a sue." She is observant and notices details most would over look.

**NATIONALITY:**French

**FAMILY:**  
Babette Bellelac, Mom, chocolate hair and emerald green eyes  
Olivier Bellelac, Dad, black hair, grey eyes  
Frédéric Bellelac, older brother (18), chocolate brown hair, emerald green eyes  
Guy Bellelac, older brother (17), black hair, emerald green eyes

**BACKGROUND:**Riley grew up with her father in charge of the Versailles Institute in France with trips to Idris now and then. She was taught to be a shadowhunter there with the usual along with French sword techniques and loves it in France. She was raised with 6 other shadow hunters besides her brothers; Antoine, Victoire, Tristan, Yves, Louis, and Eloise. She's always had a want to see the world though it was impossible since she had rigerous militaristic like training. She arranged to live at the New York institute 6 months ago to "broaden her training" as she told her parents when it really was for new scenery.

**DESCRIPTION -**  
-has the looks of an old Hollywood glamour star like Elizabeth Taylor, Marilyn Monroe, Viven Leigh

**HAIR COLOUR:**Black

**HAIR STYLE:**Her hair is an inch or two past her shoulders and is ruler straight with bangs

**EYE COLOUR:**silver

**HEIGHT:**She's average

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:**She wears a red plaid knee length tube dress, she wears a black barret, a black leather bikers jacket, black fingerless gloves, brown leather bikers sole ankle boots, a brown belt, white scarf

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):**black tank top, a fitted black leather turtleneck vest, black skinny trouser, black knee high high heel boots (there are daggers hidden in the heel), a purple belt that her throwing knife collection hangs on, her family ring

**FORMAL CLOTHES:**a red off the shoulder no backing floor length gown with a sweetheart neckline and a slit to her mid-thigh. (What can she say? She's French.)

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:**A camisole and shorts

**WEAPONS -**

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):**She uses throwing knives as her weapon and has an impressive collection on her where ever she is (inside coat, on belt, inside shoes)

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):**  
She hates to use archery equipment because it always takes a second longer than she can spare to shoot the arrow

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES:**impulsive, her refusal to give secrets that are not here to tell, her pride

**STRENGTHS:**Her aim, flexibility, speed, awareness,

**LIKES:**playing harp, dancing (she's a great ballroom, latin, freestyle, and street dancer, does only a little ballet and folk dance), going to parties

**DISLIKES:**American fast food, dull people, the cold, waking up early, alarm clocks, monkeys

**SEXUALITY:**Straight

**LOVE INTEREST:**A guy that will be able to thrill her and be able to trust as well as be able to keep up with her in wit

**MISC:** Riley has a French accent, she likes to cook, whenever she's extremely frustrated, angry, or nervous she starts yelling/or babbling in rapid french

* * *

**NAME:**Jade Clavell

**NICKNAME:**Sometimes her best friend will call her J.C., and she will punch him for it.

**AGE:**14

**GENDER:**Female

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):**Shadowhunter

**PERSONALITY:**She is quiet and remains mostly to herself and a few friends. Jade may be quiet, but no one even thinks about messing with her, because she has been known to pick fights with anyone that does. She is silent but deadly, and when she is around her friends, she is funny and dark, but sweet. Jade may be quiet, but her friends bring out the real her, and she only has a few select friends who she trusts with her life.

**NATIONALITY:**British/Irish

**FAMILY:**Jonothan- father, light blond hair and dark eyes, Penelope- mother, green eyes and strawberry blond hair. She had an older brother named Julius who died.

**BACKGROUND:** When she was seven, her older brother Julius died, and her family was so devestated, they moved from the Arizona Institute to the New York Institute, where they were staying. There she did most of her traning, and made her friends. When she was first born, she lived in Idiris, and then her family was moved to Arizona, and she never remembered anything about Idris, so she only knows Arizona and New York.

**DESCRIPTION -**

**HAIR COLOUR:**Bronze colored hair

**HAIR STYLE:**Long hair to mid back, and she hates having it down, when it's naturally wavey.

**EYE COLOUR:**Hazel

**HEIGHT:**5'8

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:**Black leather jacket, frayed and worn out jeans with cuffs, a long sleeved shirt, different color each day, and sneakers or boots. She always wears her family ring, a sword against a dagger, around her middle finger.

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):**Leather pants and a long sleeved leather jacket with a black shirt under it. She wears a black belt with her weapons in it, and black boots.

**FORMAL CLOTHES:**Dark green drees with a green strap across her waist, and brown fabric flower on the strap.

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:**Shorts and a tank top

**WEAPONS -**

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):**She is good with a lot of weapons, but she loves her small dagger with her family crest on the hilt, because it was her brother's.

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):** Mace and whips. She always manages to get herself hurt with them.

**OTHER -**She likes to have a bow and arrow on her, and several daggers and seraph blades. Her motto is "I can't leave the house without a lot of weapons, because the demons are addicted to death by moi."

**WEAKNESSES:**Her impulsivness, fear of losing someone, keeping things to herself, and getting into to many battles with demons. Sometimes she doesn't realize they can still beat her.

**STRENGTHS:** Listening, figuring things out, ability to use many weapons, and finding things in between the lines that others don't, while also considering all possiblities.

**LIKES:**Music, reading, writing, training, battle, history

**DISLIKES:** Anyone who annoys her, stuck up brats, people who get away with anything, and stupid demons who think they can defeat her.

**SEXUALITY:**Straight

**LOVE INTEREST:**Yes. Someone that will know her like the back of his hand, and makes her feel like she isn't being controled, but gets jealous a bit.

**MISC:** Hates it when people flaunt their skills, or are too nice. Also, hates it when people make up nicknames. It's Jade. Just Jade.

* * *

**NAME:**Patrick MacDougall

**NICKNAME:**Irish Snake

**AGE:**17

**GENDER:**male

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):**Human

**PERSONALITY:**Patrick has always been known not to take things too seriously. Most of his responses are sarcastic with usually something witty in them. He also always tries to lighten a situation up with a joke or some clever response involving the situation. But he is a pretty nice guy when he needs to be in order to make someone feel better.

**NATIONALITY:**Irish/american

**FAMILY:**None

**BACKGROUND::**Patrick was abandoned at the age of 3 by his father and grew up in a foster home till he turned 13 and ran away. The only way he could get food and money was pick pocketing and breaking into homes for cash. It wasn't till he got noticed by the leader of a group of thieves that allowed him to join their gang for his quick fingers, stealth and charm. The group of thieves stole from the rich and gave whatever they could to all the other people that were suffering on the streets. Till during one of his heist in a building he happened to meet a group of shadowerhunters

**DESCRIPTION -**

**HAIR COLOUR:**Dark red

**HAIR STYLE:**short, almost like a buzz cut

**EYE COLOUR:**dark green

**HEIGHT:**6'0

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:**wears a pair of jeans with a white shirt and a black leather jacket with green stripes on the sleeves with a pairs of aviators and Golden 4 leaf clover necklace

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):**

**FORMAL CLOTHES:**Pure white tuxedo he stole from a rich family.

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:**Black pajama pants with no shirt

**WEAPONS -**

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):**Dual daggers

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):**Great swords, Too heavy for him to use

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES:**Not very strong and cant run long distances

**STRENGTHS:**Stealthy, quick cunning, quick and light on his feet.

**LIKES:**Money, girls, fame, pick pocketing

**DISLIKES:**Cops, demons, braggers

**SEXUALITY:**Straight

**LOVE INTEREST:**Anybody that can mingle well with patrick

**MISC:** Has an irish accent

* * *

**NAME:**Corbin Grayson

**NICKNAME:**

**AGE:**18

**GENDER:**male

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):**Shadowhunter

**PERSONALITY:**Corbin is the silent protector type. He prefers not to lead, but to just make sure that whoever his team is, especially his paraboti, doesn't mess things up or get hurt too badly. Generally when the adults need the truth they'll go to him as he has a very strong sense of right and wrong. There have only been two times he has purposfully lied, and they were both to make sure his partner didn't get in too much trouble. He acts like the older brother of the group, fixing arguments and getting everyone to work together. For the most part he's very calm and level headed, but if you are doin something wrong he turns vicious. He still remains level headed but will go crazy with his attacks. He is very awkward with flirting, it embaresses him, so avoids relationships as much as possible.

**NATIONALITY:**New York from birth

**FAMILY:**His mother and father were Paraboti, though both married to someone else. When they were on a mission somewhere else they ended up doing the dirty and she had Corbin. They tried to cover it up, but he looked exactly like his dad. So he was taken from them and raises in the NY Institute without them.

**BACKGROUND:**He has been living in the Institute his whole life, hearing about how shameful his parents were. He was always worried about becoming Paraboti with a girl who wouldn't be his wife, so he avoided girls, making him now awkward around them. His life hasn't had too terribly much excitment, asside from the usual Shadowhunter fun.

**DESCRIPTION -**

**HAIR COLOUR:**Jet black

**HAIR STYLE:**Semi-long and shaggy with a bit of curl, like Sherlock Holmes ( I'll send you a pictute if you'd like).

**EYE COLOUR:**A deep blue.

**HEIGHT:**Average, but leaning towards tall.

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:**Jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers, and his leather jacket on top of a grey hooded jacket.

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):**Thick jeans, steel toed boots, Cutoff tighter shirt and another leather jacket. Plus several belts for blades.

**FORMAL CLOTHES:**A suit... i'm bad with guys clothes haha.

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:**boxers XD

**WEAPONS -**

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):**A long, skinny blade with runes inscribed over it.

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):**Anything except blades.

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES:**He hates fire. He can still fight while it's there, but his moves are slower as he's paying a lot of attention to it.

**STRENGTHS:**Strategizing and teamwork. He's also better at clever kills more then straight on attacks.

**LIKES:**When everyone can get along, quiet, efficency, just being with his friends.

**DISLIKES:**When plans get thrown out the window, fire, flirting.

**SEXUALITY:**Straight.

**LOVE INTEREST:**Would be someone who doesn't flirt at first, and becomes close friends with him, then would start showing interest and flirting more.

**MISC:** His parabati should be almost the opposite of him. His partner will go for the head on attack while Corbin sneaks around behind to get the kill while the demon is distracted.

* * *

**NAME:**Demitri Rosanaugh (Roseanew)

**NICKNAME:**

**AGE:**looks 18, is really ... Erm don't want to do the math... From WW2ish.

**GENDER:**male

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):**Vampire :)

**PERSONALITY:**Demitri is a very outgoing person. He enjoys flirting with pretty much everyone, guy or girl. Half the time he doesn't even realize he's doig it. But sometimes he does it to purposfully make someone uncomfortable. He generally likes to act like he isn't a Vampire. He frequents night clubs often. His sister means the world to him. He grately dislikes the ways of vampires and would rather not drink blood, so he puts it off for as much as possible. He's a great leader though, and none of the others suspect his dislike of drinking blood.

**NATIONALITY:**Russian, but he only has an accent when he gets mad.

**FAMILY:**Little sister, Darrian, is also a Vampire. She looks about 11. She is extremely sweet for a vampire, though doesn't have problems with munching on people, she just follows the accords. Extreme fear of Shadowhunters which comes out as hatred most times. The rest are dead.

**BACKGROUND:**A foreign man came to their house in Russia during WW2, he demanded that Demitri's father give up the plans he has for a missile so it can be used against Russia in the war. His dad refused, so the man took Darrian and bit her, of course they didn't understand what was wrong yet, but the vampire returned and helped Demitri turn her fully to a vampire, in return Demetri had to also turn into one and serve the man, which is what he wanted in the first place. After several hundred years though, he went to London and was one of the Vampires there, while never worjing directly with or against them, he knew up Will, Jem, and Tessa. He never had a human subjuget though. He moved to New York sometime after the Valentine fiasco. He has been slowly moving up in ranks, and is now high up (however high you want to make him). His sister has been dutifully following him. Demitri was intrigued by Simon and yearns to be able to enter the sun again, so he now helps out Shadowhunters in everyway he can.

**DESCRIPTION -**

**HAIR COLOUR:**Dark brown

**HAIR STYLE:**Cut short against his head with the front slightly longer and spiked up.

**EYE COLOUR:**Almost black, brown.

**HEIGHT:**Very tall

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:**A buttoned up black jacket, jeans, black boots, and a white shirt underneath.

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):**

**FORMAL CLOTHES:**A nice tux. With a bow tie :)

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:**They don't sleep... Right?

**WEAPONS -**

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):**Teeth :)

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE):**...teeth :)

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES:**The sun, not being able to go in churches, not wanting to drink blood until he has to, his sister.

**STRENGTHS:**Vampire awesomeness, high rank, intelligence, excellent memory.

**LIKES:**The sun, outdoors, motorcycles, cold.

**DISLIKES:**Being a vampire, breaking the Accords, lies.

**SEXUALITY:**Straight, but sorta like Magnus in the sense that if the right person is a guy he won't care.

**LOVE INTEREST:**Someone who understands about him and is preferably immortal. Must be tough and able to handle themselves.

**MISC:** Err, ask if I forgot something :)

* * *

**NAME:**Melody Jane Daniels

**NICKNAME:**Mel or MJ

**AGE:**17

**GENDER:**Female

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN):**A Fey

**PERSONALITY:**Like all Fey she has a love for mischeif and is grand at telling half-truths. However, she also believes greatly in the Shadowhunter cause and feels Fey should work better with them. She is very even tempered, never letting herself get to angry or excited or scared. She does actually have these feelings, she's just been trained to hide them.

**NATIONALITY:**errr, I'm not sure this applies.

**FAMILY:**She is the daughter of a Fey general.

**BACKGROUND:**Melody grew up near the Seelie Court as her father has been a high ranking official for some time. She was a small child, but she remembers when Jace and Clary were around. She was intrigued by the love they had for each other so she startes watching Shadowhunters more closely. Eventually she decided she wanted their kind of love and friendship for herself, leading her to become an ally of the New York Shadowhunters.

**DESCRIPTION -**

**HAIR COLOUR:**Bright strawberry-blonde

**HAIR STYLE:**Losely curled an down to the small of her back.

**EYE COLOUR:**dark blue

**HEIGHT:**just taller then average

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING:**Skinny jeans, heeled boots, a black v-neck, and a red jacket.

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY):**

**FORMAL CLOTHES:**A dark green floor length dress, halter top that is open in the back and black heels.

**SLEEPING CLOTHES:**A tank top and pair of those girls boxers.

**WEAPONS -**

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT):**

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE): **

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES:**Not being able to lie, not wanting to betray her people, an unwanted compassion for demons, her want/confusion of love, and not being able to fight.

**STRENGTHS:**Her magic, connections, ability to cause distractions, charm, and intelligence.

**LIKES:**Boys, romance, adventure, excitment, motorcycles.

**DISLIKES:**fighting, violence, lies, betrayl.

**SEXUALITY:**Straight

**LOVE INTEREST:**Someone who loves adventure, sticks to what he believes, trustworthy, an who will be there to save her (since she can't fight).

**MISC:** She's good at flirting, but doesn't really understand the meaningful parts of relationships.

* * *

**NAME:** Mamoru Kozuki

**NICKNAME:** Moru, sometimes. He doesn't like it, but it's better than "Sunshine"

**AGE:** 19

**GENDER: **Male

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN): **Shadowhunter

**PERSONALITY: **Mamoru's personality is a little hard to pinpoint - he keeps himself with an indifferent expression and doesn't like to share anything with anyone unless they're his _parabatai_ or his family. He has been known to laugh at some of the most trivial things, such as mundanes' attempts to understand the world of magic and the fact that there's a man out there who thinks the Shadowhunters are all sick. He's more serious than jovial, and this shows when he takes the role of leader in group surveys on certain areas. This silent side to him is, according to George, just a cover for what he is really like, seeing as Mamoru is also quite shy (which would explain why he was so soft-spoken toward all of the NY Institute's residents upon meeting them. He shows a great understanding of what the word "manners" means, often apologising if he does something that makes someone raise an eyebrow in confusion. He's polite to the girls and awkward around the boys, as he's used to talking about manga and art instead of demons and training. Nevertheless, he has a mean poker face and knows how to use it, often using his good looks to manipulate people should the need arise. (A good friend of his, Natsu, had once told him, "With great beauty comes great responsibility." As soon as he'd said it, Mamoru and Natsu's brother, Aki, whacked him upside the head.)

When he opens up out of his shell (which won't happen until later on in his time with his new family) he becomes a guy that is easygoing and knows how to take a joke, often the one people go to for comfort or advice in times of depression or conflict. He always stands the neutral ground, refusing to take sides in arguments.

**NATIONALITY: **Japanese

**FAMILY: **Mamoru's family had died when he was just three, and he doesn't remember who they were aside from his Aunt Renna, who was the one he saw last before her death. He has only known his mentor, Daichi, to be the closest thing to a father, and often calls him "Uncle".

**BACKGROUND: **Surprisingly, Mamoru was the only one of the Tokyo Institute residents to have not been born in Idris, much less raised there. He has spent his entire life within Tokyo, learning from his mentor and training with his friends. He lived there with quite a few other boys, as well as a half-Fey girl named Moira (15). The others he lived with were the twins (Chiyo and Hikaru, 17), the Hotori brothers (Haruko, 10, and Suzuki, 13), the dynamic duo (Natsu, 18, and Aki, 16), and the two "elders" of the bunch (Kenshin, 21, and Izanagi, 20).

Around the time Mamoru was sixteen, Daichi had recieved word that a child from the New York Institute would be visiting them for a couple of years to learn more about the culture and fighting style the Japanese had to offer. At first Mamoru wasn't sure what to think of the kid, because he was bossy and charming at the same time, but when he finally opened up to him, Mamoru saw himself in the boy.

From that day on, George and Mamoru were the best of friends. Shortly after they started their friendship, George suggested becoming _parabatai _with Mamoru. They did so, and have been inseperable since. It is only recently that he has come back to the New York Institute with George, though.

**DESCRIPTION - **

**HAIR COLOUR: **Bleached blonde with a bit of red dyed into his fringe

**HAIR STYLE: **A little past his jawline and fluffed slightly, with a side fringe that covers one eye a little

**EYE COLOUR: **Dark brown

**HEIGHT:** 6'0

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING: **Anything comfortable; mainly hoodies and jeans, sometimes trousers and a button-down shirt.

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY): **Dark jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket, combat boots

**FORMAL CLOTHES: **Black suit with a white shirt and dark tie.

**SLEEPING CLOTHES: **Sweatpants and a t-shirt

**WEAPONS - **

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT): **Bows and arrows, but always uses seraph blades when the target is close-range. If not that, he's quite skilled in martial arts - he'd be able to handle hand-to-hand combat easily, but couldn't do it forever.

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE): **Anything with a staff attached to it. He sees the only way to being able to use them is for him to be ambidexterous, which he is not.

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES: **Fear of heights; can't stand the smell of burnt flesh, be it demon or human; he has a hard time trusting poeple he meets; doesn't speak much, so communication is practically lost there

**STRENGTHS: **Doesn't speak much, so no one knows what's going on in that poker-winning head of his... Mamoru also has much skill and promise in fighting, and would give even Amato a run for his money in hand-to-hand comabt, which is saying something; he has complete faith in his friends and knows they could survive anything (in other words, he doesn't baby people constantly)

**LIKES: **Manga, art, drawing, reading, wandering around aimlesly in a big house (first thing he does in the morning), stargazing, keeping his hands busy

**DISLIKES:** Having nothing to do, being alone, high up places, being ambushed (to be fair, who doesn't?), being forced out of his "shell" too quickly, being thrown randomly into conversation while he's doing something else (happened more times than he'd like).

**SEXUALITY:** Bi

**LOVE INTEREST: **Just someone that can read him and knows what he's about, and also someone that can bring out the best in him. He wouldn't mind who or what they were, just so long as he knew they loved him as much as he loved them.

**MISC: **Mamoru is the poker champion back at Tokyo Institute - he even won around 7,000 yen off of Daichi in one sitting, costing everyone a few days' worth of food (Daichi handles groceries and such, and needed that money to supply the fridge). Mamoru also has his own manga style, and has once or twice attempted to start his own manga; nowadays he just draws people he knows in anime form.

* * *

**NAME: **George Firestar

**NICKNAME:** Bastard/Bastardo, but only by Liz - her first impression of him sealed that nickname for life.

**AGE:** 19

**GENDER: **Male

**RACE (DOWNWORLDER, SHADOWERHUNTER, HUMAN): **Shadowhunter

**PERSONALITY: **At first, many people would think George is an arse. After getting to know him (and finding out he was much worse as a child), it is shown that he's just bossy and protective, even going so far as to scold someone older than him when they make a critical fumble. He keeps his friends close and his enemies closer, a good example being Liz and Mamoru in that statement - he's close with Mamoru, but closer to Liz so he can exact his revenge on her for kicking his shin and calling him a pig-headed bastard in Italian. That said, he holds grudges very well - especially since that event happened when they were barely even ten years old. George is also the kind of person that takes in details and mentally notes down certain points in order to assess something, much like the world's only consulting detective but hardly at Mr Holmes's level of mindset. George doesn't like to flaunt this skill, however, preferring to keep it underwraps until it becomes vital in finding out information that could probably save a few lives. George is also known to use charming methods when addressing people for the first time, hoping to win them over in the first impression. This was obviously learned from Adrian, whose father encouraged him to be charming _and_ deadly for a dangerous combo.

**NATIONALITY: **American with a bit of Persian from his grandfather

**FAMILY:** Mirza Ferdosi, grandfather, passed away when George was five and was the man who raised him before Adrian did. Mother was Mina Firestar, who died in labor, and father was Albert Firestar, who was drained of blood by a group of very hungry vampires.

**BACKGROUND:** George has been living in the Institute for as long as he can remember, and left at the age of sixteen to broaden his horizons in Japan. In between those two events, he was raised by his grandfather until age five, when the man died of a heart failure at the young age of forty-nine. George was from then on raised by Adrian Lightwood, who taught him how to be charming and to win over a crowd with just his words. This didn't work in his favour when Lizabeth and her family moved in to manage the Institute, and at the time James Canterbury and Corbin Grayson both lived there with him. The moment George told Liz to ignore Corbin for being the son of disgraced Shadowhunters, he made his first enemy/rival in life. He also began the longest grudge he'd ever held, going on to nine years long now.

Around the time he was sixteen he requested to leave New York and learn about Institutes in other countries, and on a whim decided that the Tokyo Institute would be a good start. George was sent there, met his _parabatai_, and spent three more years living with the guys and only girl there. His return to the NY Institute hasn't sparked any good reactions from his old nemesis, unfortunately.

**DESCRIPTION - **

**HAIR COLOUR:** Rust-coloured

**HAIR STYLE: **Kind of shaggy and short, but no so short that it's right against his scalp and neck. He usually doesn't manage it and just leaves it. His fringe parts to the right slightly, and he constantly tries to move it aside. Sometimes uses a few hair clips to hold back his fringe when reading.

**EYE COLOUR: **Light/choclate brown (right eye is darker than the left, being the "chocolate-coloured" eye)

**HEIGHT:** 6'1

**EVERYDAY CLOTHING: **Dark shirt, baggy pants, sneakers, beanie and jacket when he goes outside. Sometimes has a wristband on, depending on the day

**FIGHTING CLOTHES (SHADOWHUNTERS ONLY): **Black long-sleeved shirt, leather trousers, leather vest with various weapons, combat boots

**FORMAL CLOTHES: **Dark three-piece with the jacket let undone

**SLEEPING CLOTHES: **Just whatever he's comfy in

**WEAPONS - **

**MAIN/FAVOURED WEAPON (SHADOWHUNTERS UNLESS CHARACTER USES WEAPONS TO FIGHT): **Any kind of sword or blade he can use. He seems to have no trouble using them, and usually has a few blades hidden on him when he goes out (hey, you never know).

**WEAPONS THEY HATE TO USE (SAME AS ABOVE): **Bow and arrows, staffs, scythes, sickles, anything that takes time to use and requires more than one hand. Like Mamoru, he sees the ability to use a staff-like object to go hand-in-hand with being ambidexterous, which he is not.

**OTHER -**

**WEAKNESSES: **He never lets go of the past; his anger can get the best of him sometimes; he tends to be an arse to people that aren't older than him (but that's probably just toward Liz); he can't fathom the thought of losing someone close to him, even if he sees them as a rival of sorts; has a fear of ducks (Anatidaephobia — fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you. He will always call it by the technical name. _Always_.)

**STRENGTHS: **He's quite protective; willing to take a bullet for someone who matters to him; always has a weapon on him; attentive to small details; knows what he wants when it comes to goals

**LIKES: **Cats, chocolate, running, thinking, going into his mind when he's bored, Italian food (much to his displeasure)

**DISLIKES: **Being misjudged, ducks, swimming, parks, greasy food (aside from pizza - he is the ultimate meatlovers adict)

**SEXUALITY: **Straight

**LOVE INTEREST: **Someone who clicks with him, most likely. Kind of has a side of him that wants a beautiful (he'll say "boobyful" when he's not thinking) girl that has smarts as well, that way he's not getting "a total bimbo or nerd". So far no one has shown interest in him.

**MISC: **He still hasn't exacted his revenge on Liz, and ordered her to not die until he thought of a good vendetta settler. (However, a few people - one of them being Amato - think Liz will try to fake her death just for kicks.) He also likes having stubble along his jawline, as it makes him feel manly; he hates shaving, but hates a full-on beard more. He speaks just a teensy bit of Persian, but can't remember most of it.


	2. Prologue: Forging Bonds

**Okay, remember the first chapter I had out? That was just to introduce Liz's character. This is the real-deal-honest-to-God prologue, and I'm not sure what reactions I'm going to get from it…**

**~Miki**

* * *

**2039, NEW YORK SHADOWHUNTER INSTITUTE**

The three boys all sat at the table, spacing themselves with a seat between each of them. They had ordered themselves by age, leaving young Corbin Grayson in the middle of their line. Pacing back and forth in front of the table was a young man, his curled blonde hair messy from a no doubt restless night.

This man was Adrian Lightwood; the son of the very well known Clary and Jace Lightwood. For as long as Corbin could remember, Adrian had been the one raising the three boys, leading the Institute with his signature grin on his face.

But that grin was gone today.

He continued to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind his back, and he was muttering things under his breath, too quick for any of the boys to hear.

Reluctantly, Corbin glanced at the older boy to his left and asked, "What's going on?"

The older boy glanced back at Corbin, scowling and narrowing his brown eyes. "Adrian's leaving for Idris," he hissed back. "Someone else is going to take over here."

Corbin blinked, confused, but went with it anyway. He didn't want to make George explain what he meant, especially when the older boy teased Corbin daily about his parents.

A ding sounded, the elevator's screeching rising to their floor. Adrian froze mid-step, gulping nervously.

"Okay," he breathed, somehow nervous by this whole event. "Best behaviour, guys. You want to make a good impression."

The boys nodded. Footsteps entered the halls as the elevator doors opened, and immediately a young voice announced, "So big!"

It was no doubt the voice of a little girl, which meant yet another child was coming to live in the Institute. None of the boys knew how they should've felt about it – happy or depressed? Should they be happy that they'll be getting to know someone new, or should they be depressed in case this person is like Adrian's aunt, Isabelle?

An agonising moment of silence passed, and finally a small form ran past the doorway to the dining room, her long brunette braid swaying left and right with every step she took. The boys couldn't tell if she was smiling or not, she was running too fast to see. Almost instantly, a tall man's form passed the doorway also.

"Lizabeth," he called, a thick Italian accent in his light voice. "_Mia cara_, stop running. You can explore later."

The four males continued to stare at the doorway, wondering if the man and the little girl were coming back, only to have a tall woman casually walk into the room.

She was dressed lightly, matching the September weather outside. The woman unwound the pale green scarf around her neck and set it on a nearby chair, looking Adrian in the eye with her own brown ones.

"It's an honour to meet you, Adrian," she greeted with a British accent, holding out a gloved hand. "I'm Lucinda Evergreen; my husband, Amato, is going to be taking over in your absence."

Adrian's confidence took a great burst, taking Lucinda's hand and shaking it. The boys at the table watched cautiously, somewhat curious as to what was going to happen next.

As though answering an unasked request, a brunette man walked into the room with the girl slung over his shoulder, laughing loudly as she was placed into a chair across from the boys. Corbin guessed that the man was Amato, Lucinda's husband.

Immediately, Adrian shook Amato's hand and introduced himself. Before a conversation could be started, he began to introduce the boys.

"Ah," Adrian began, "sitting closest to us is George Firestar – he's the oldest of the boys and he usually starts an argument every once in a while. Beside him is Corbin Grayson – I assume you've heard of his parents, yes?"

Amato nodded, a look on his face that clearly expressed pity. "A shame about that," he said under his breath. "Lovers that cannot be together because of the Law."

"The Law is hard, but it is the Law!" the little girl announced unexpectedly, rising from her seat and fist-pumping the air. Amato impatiently sat her back down, frowning at her outburst.

"_Mia cara_," he scolded. "Luce and I taught you better than to shout indoors."

The little girl grinned and giggled, sitting back down with a bit of energy still in her. The boys continued to stare at her, surprised that she could have such an amount of energy in her.

"The last one," Adrian went on, "and also the youngest one, is James Canterbury. He came from the London Institute before New York. His parents – rest their souls – wanted him to be with family friends if they died while he was young."

Lucinda nodded in agreement. "They made a good choice," she commented. "I couldn't bear to leave my little Lizabeth in the hands on strangers, if we died."

Corbin and the boys tuned out of the conversation, coming back into it when Adrian told them to show Lizabeth around. It was official, then; Amato and Lucinda were going to take Adrian's place at the Institute.

The young girl jumped out of her seat and ran to their side of the table, a giddy smile on her face as she stared at them all. Her eyes twinkled, seeming almost bottle-blue, but Corbin could easily recognise the colour as cobalt. She was fairly pale, looking a little between someone who had spent most of their life indoors and someone that belonged in the snow.

"_Ciao! Io sono Liz. Che cosa i vostri nomi?_" she asked, speaking with fluent Italian. The boys could tell that she had just introduced herself, but had to rake their brains to figure out what she'd said after "Hello! I'm Liz."

George was the first to reply, holding out a hand with a charming smile on his face – it was no doubt an imitation of Adrian's smiles.

"My name is George," he introduced. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Liz took the hand and gave it a firm squeeze, surprising the older boy as his green eyes bulged wide and a scowl graced his face. "Quite a grip you got there, Liz," he remarked. Liz merely gave him a sweet smile and looked to the other two boys, greeting James the same way before turning her attention to Corbin.

"Pay him no mind," George told her. "His parents are a disgrace and so is he. You shouldn't waste your time with him."

Deep down, Corbin felt as though he'd just been stung by a Ravener in a vital area. He kept his face calm and released a small breath, cursing to himself. Why did his parents have to be _parabatai_? Why couldn't they have just kept their hands off each other instead of doing what they did? Didn't they know it hurt him, despite them not even being there to see it?

_No_, he thought. _They're probably too absorbed in their own lives to worry about me._

A sharp intake of breath came from Liz, who – rather unexpectedly – launched her foot at George's shin. The older boy yelped and lifted his leg as he hopped in the other, growling at the girl as she glared icy daggers at him. Corbin and James stared in shock, only to hear Amato chuckle at the scene.

"Your eldest must've said something to irritate my little one," he told Adrian. A cool expression was on the Italian man's face as he watched his daughter with pride.

"_Testardo bastardo_," Liz growled at George, once again slipping into her fluent Italian. "You do not judge someone by their parents! If you did, you'd do best to stay the hell away from _me_."

George just continued to hop on one foot, cursing to himself and muttering under his breath about a "crazy European" and how he would get her back one day.

Liz turned to Corbin, and then remembered that James was there also. She pointed at James accusingly and growled, "Do you agree with him?"

Ever so slowly, James nodded and braced himself for the worst. Nothing happened, though; the boy opened his tightly shut eyes and saw Liz, now standing next to Corbin and latching onto his arm protectively. "You're both bastards," she grumbled.

Corbin could only stand there, dumbfounded, as his mind slowly put the pieces together. All he could ask himself was, _Did I just get a friend?_

* * *

**Apologies for the shortness, but I kinda wanted to leave it there with Corbin and Liz meeting. I have also named our lovable couple's kid Adrian, and he was the caretaker of the Institute before Amato and Lucinda were.**

**I hope the chapter was enjoyed, even if it was a short-as-hell prologue. The first chapter will be much longer because I don't like short chapters when I write... They make me feel lazy...**

**I'm also putting a list here of music I listened to while writing the chapter. Bear in mind that I keep my music choices limited, but I do listen to more than just Skrillex (although, a couple of the songs are good when it comes to fight scenes).**

**Songs I abused while writing this chapter:**

**1 . Fighter – Gym Class Heroes**

**2 . First of the Year (Equinox) – Skrillex**

**3 . Bangarang – Skrillex**

**4 . Heroes Come Back – Nobodyknows**


	3. 1: Sickness

**2047, NEW YORK SHADOWHUNTER INSTITUTE**

"Up!"

A swift kick landed on the edge of Liz's bed, making the young Shadowhunter stir from her sleep. She was having a peaceful dream - one that consisted of her favourite pastimes: Killing demons and attempting to bake soufflés. Usually she failed at the latter, her talent taking her as far as cremé caramels, but in her mind palace she was like the Iron Chef of the Nephilim world.

"You can't keep sleeping, Liz. Up!"

Another kick to the bed, this time with a little more force, and Liz finally opened her eyes. A groggy sound escaped her throat; her eyelids felt heavy; her legs were completely limp. This was obviously a morning she didn't want to get up in.

A figure next to her bed came into her line of sight, dark curls reaching their chest, possibly lower if Liz's vision decided to stop blurring on her. At first, she thought the morning visitor was none other than Priscilla, better known as Prissy to everyone in the New York Institute. And then Liz took notice that this person's skin wasn't as tanned as the Spanish girl's. This person was also taller than Prissy, eyes just that bit brighter.

"You'd better be the Easter Bunny, or I swear, Cassandra Tyme, even Lucifer himself will tremble in fear when my feet hit the floor."

Her _parabatai_ gave her a huff and a glare, but still smiled nonetheless. "Yes, Liz; I'm a giant bunny that gives people chocolate after breaking into their homes," she replied, the sentence oozing with sarcasm. "Get up; your dad wants to see you. Something about some guy named George coming for a visit."

Liz suggested that Cass tell Amato that George could go screw himself, but all that earned was another kick to the bed. With a final groan, Liz sat up and let the blanket fall off of her shoulders, revealing her newly awakened form to her friend. She suspected that, as usual, she was a mess: Hair in all directions, drool on the pillow (and some still stuck to her cheek), shirt crumpled here and there, perhaps even slightly reddened eyes. Indeed, Lizabeth Evergreen was not a morning person.

"You look like crap," Cass remarked. Liz swiftly sent her a half-hearted glare and threw her saliva-soaked pillow at the other girl, making Cass swat it away before inspecting her hand for drool. Rolling her eyes, Liz climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

She didn't need to listen closely to hear Cass leave her room; she always left right when Liz made her way for the shower. It was as though there was no need to check if she'd go back to bed, that the bathroom alone was enough proof that Liz was going to make an effort to stay awake until sundown.

A final yawn, and then Liz took a glance in the mirror. She was right; she did look like a mess. With an impatient shake of her head, she beelined for the shower and quickly undressed herself, slipping under the hot water and washing her hair. It was becoming a little difficult to manage nowadays, what with it being at least waist length, and she honestly didn't know what to do with it. Cut it? Leave it? Put it in a bun that had those little plaits in them? What were those called, again? Liz shook her head, a small bit of bubbly shampoo slipping down her forehead.

Once she was done she switched off the water, but stood still a moment, her eyes glued to her right hand. Staring back at her was the eye-like rune that enabled her Sight, gave her the ability to see what a normal mundie couldn't. She'd always wondered why Shadowhunters had needed such a rune - a permanent one, at that. Werewolves were born with the Sight - the ones that were born from Werewolf parents, this is - and even Warlocks had the Sight before they became fully aware of what they were.

_Stop overthinking_, she scolded herself. _You'll give yourself a headache._

At that she stepped out of the shower and felt around for her towel, accidentally catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. Resting just above her elbow, nearing the inside of her arm, was the rune that tied her and Cass together as partners in crime. (Although that wasn't the "correct" term for it, Liz and Cass both agreed it sounded much better than just "brothers or sisters in arms".) Another thing that caught her eye was the amount of scars that lined her, all from either demon attacks or stele drawings. If she focused hard enough, she could just make out the shape of an _iratze_ on her left collar bone, a little above her heart. Though it killed to have a Mark drawn on her bare skin and bone, she was adamant to have a healing rune as close to her heart as possible.

Oh, how naive she'd been when she'd said _that_ to Cass.

Since the great George Firestar was gracing the Institute with his glorious presence, Liz decided to dress as though Demitri were going to project himself into the Institute for a nice chat - in other words, like she didn't give a fly rat's arse.

And so, once she was dressed in some black yoga pants and a dark green sweatshirt, she stalked out of her room and headed for her father's office; otherwise known as "Shadowhunter HQ" to the childish teens. On her way there she passed Cass and Blake, the blonde boy giving her a polite wave and a happy, "Good morning," before disappearing into the training room with the other Shadowhunter. Liz figured Cass was going to train him with weapons other than his own, but knew that was a lost cause in itself. Blake was a genius when it came to fighting with nunchucks, much like how Liz was the Grim Reaper in human form with her own scythe.

The door to the office came into view, followed by Liz's oldest friend, Corbin. He looked a little worried, perhaps even confused, and she couldn't help but wonder why.

"Hey," she greeted, stopping by his side. The two stood right outside the office, glancing at the door. "I heard George is coming back for a visit."

"Yeah," Corbin replied with a slight sigh. "I was hoping to talk with your dad about it, but I don't know what to say."

"How about, 'Warn George that Liz still lives here and she holds grudges a lot worse nowadays'?"

A small smile seemed to crack onto the older teen's face, but not enough to look like his spirits had been lifted. She shrugged to him, then walked off in search of the kitchen. Before she did anything, she needed some food in her system. Preferably something with sugar in it.

The kitchen wasn't far from the office, thankfully, giving Liz less than two minutes to find it and raid the fridge. If she had any kind of modivation in her head, let alone her limbs, she'd have gotten over her hate for the sun and started making pancakes. But it wasn't as easy as that; no, if she started making the delectable breakfast, every other resident in the hude cathedral would flock to the kitchen in hopes of getting in on the food she was cooking.

And then Riley would completely take over and tell Liz to park herself in a chair, maybe get five minutes of open-eyed sleep. That actually didn't sound like a bad idea, when she thought about it.

"Ooh," she cooed, reaching for a plastic container of what appeared to be leftover mashed potato. She opened it an confirmed her suspicions, then grabbed a fork from one of the drawers and dug into it, leaning against the counter casually. It was the leftover mash she'd made a couple of nights ago, when she'd misjudged how many people she was cooking for and made too much of the stuff. Not that she was complaining, but the majority found it odd - and a little annoying - that the serving of potato was larger than that of the chicken.

Liz thought back to that night, wondering if she'd made gravy with it as well. Setting aside the container, she returned to the fridge and began to raid it once more.

* * *

Jackson Black flipped through the pages of the newspaper impatiently, trying to find anything useful about any upcoming events. Lately things had been put in a sort of hushed state, like the police were figuring out that Jacks's "band of merry men" were getting their tips from the newspaper.

_That'd be the day_, Jacks thought with amusement. _Cops catching on to our obvious way of work? Yeah, right._

A knock sounded on his door, followed by a muffled voice asking if he was busy. Jacks turned a page and told whoever it was to come in, only to have three of his best pickpockets enter the room. They all stood with the shortest one in the middle, the other two flanking her with their hands in their pockets. Jacks glanced up from an article about shares collapsing and rising, meeting the eyes of Patrick MacDougall, Sylvester Hendricks, and Beverly Morgan.

"What can I do for the three of you?" Jacks asked, turning his blue-eyed gaze back to the newspaper. He spotted an article about an upcoming _Victoria's Secret_ show, but knew it would be littered with cops and security guards, not to mention half-naked models that knew who was VIP and who wasn't.

Sylvester, who was quite the brawny man with a bit of height on him, stepped forward, a certain uneasiness in his brown and green eyes. Jacks found himself intrigued by them so easily - those mismatched eyes that belonged to Sylvester - and just recently remembered the medical term for it: Hetereochromia. "It's all over the news," he said. "You won't find any info on it in the newspaper, Jacks."

At this the man raised a blonde brow. Why wouldn't he find something in the newspaper? They published the names of newly-born babies every week, for crying out loud! And even published small messages from one person to another!

"Instead of pointing this out, Jacks leaned forward and said, "Go on."

Patrick took a turn to speak, smirking just a little. He always seemed to do that whenever he found something stupidly funny - like when people failed at the simplest tasks. "Some researcher - I can't remember his name; something hard to pronounce - thinks there's a group of sick people out there who are in desperate need of curing. They break out in symptoms of - no joke, Jacks - 'strange tattoos that appear at random and constant claims of demons and vampires'." Patrick scoffed out a laugh. "I think the guy's been smoking something, but whatever. He's still having a charity ball in order to raise funds to cure these people. More so, hunt them down."

"In other words," Beverly added on, shaking a bit of hair out of her eyes, "there's going to be a whole group of people in one big ass mansion, and they'll all be loaded with money for this cause Doctor Whats-his-name is supporting."

Jacks's eyes widened in surprise and excitement. "How well will it be guarded?" he asked. Beverly shrugged.

"I'd say there'd only be one security guard per room, maybe two if this guy wants to keep himself from someone harming him."

They didn't need to harm him, though; which meant they were in the clear.

With a grin, Jacks folded his newspaper and demanded, "What day?"

"Saturday," the replied in union, the combination sounding a little odd with Patrick's Irish accent mixing in with Sylvester and Beverly's American ones.

"Get your fancy clothes, then." He rose from his seat and chucked the newspaper onto his desk. "We're classing up Saturday night. Before the night rolls around, I want you all to get as much info as possible."

* * *

Night was more of Liz's element: She could move freely without someone in her way; the shadows of the moon hid her better than those of the sun; and her nocturnal mind ticked away with every second the darkness loomed around her. It was so different to a closed space - she could move, really move around, and the light off the moon gave her enough to see what was ahead of her.

Darkness and night also went well with demon hunting.

The _parabatai _were giving chase, hunting down a Drevak that seemed to want to return to its master as quickly as possible. Giving chase was something Liz loved, especially when she was with Cass, and when Corbin and Riley follow in case yet another demon gets a sneak attack on them.

The Drevak made a hard right, turning into one of the lots filled with nothing but houses. Liz scowled, let out a frustrated breath, and once she turned she flung her scythe as hard as she could. The weapon spun in the air, mimicking a boomerang as it flew in the direction of the Drevak. She watched the shine of the blade as it came in contact with the demon, slicing through it before making a return to its owner. Just as Liz went to move forward in hopes of interrogating the messenger demon, a loud snarl caught her off guard.

She spun on her heel, reaching for a seraph blade, but wasn't fast enough in her movements. The Ahiab tackled her to the ground, sending them tumbling toward a lawn littered with garden gnomes. All the while the blind demon lashed out at her, landing one good blow to her leg before they finally came to a stop. Liz shoved the Ahiab off of her, just barely catching sight of her friends running for her. Cass was leading them, Liz's scythe in hand as she readied one of her own knives.

Liz's attention was drawn back to the Ahiab, right when it pounced at her. She gasped, unable to feel her seraph blade on her belt, and rolled out of the way. Just as she did, the Ahiab landed roughly on the ground, injured and whimpering. She stared at it, only to spot six thin blades sticking out of its side. She grined. Trust Corbin and Riley to strike from afar with throwing knives.

Another knife was thrown, this one obviously belonging to Cass. It struck the demon right on the head, and slowly it began to return to its home dimension, folding in on itself repeatedly until nothing was left but the seven knives used to kill it.

"Awesome," Liz praised the group. "Freaking awesome."

Unexpectedly, Cass stormed over to her _parabatai_ and whacked her upside the head. Liz let out a small sound of annoyance before rubbing the spot Cass had slapped, trying her best not to look at her leg. It hurt more than she would like to admit, especially since it was a blow to one of her other demon-made scars.

Shortly after the scythe was returned to its owner and the knives were collected, Riley and Cass began to help Liz to her feet. Her leg killed, and it was obvious that she was going to be lectured by her parents till the merciless light of day.

"Your mom is going to flip," Corbin told Liz, grinning just a little. Cass let out a small groan at the thought.

"Guess who's going to get the blame for not babysitting her?" she said rhetorically, rolling her eyes.

Liz laughed to herself and looked to Riley, grinning at the younger teen. "You're the only one who isn't going to get lectured, Sunshine," she teased. "You must feel like a loner."

"A _damned lucky _loner," Corbin pointed out, crossing his arms in front of him. Liz nodded in agreement.

"Trust me, when you hear one of Dad's lectures and see one of Mum's panic attacks, you'll want to avoid them after every demon hunt."

They soon began to leave the gnome-infested lawn, ignoring the house they'd just trespassed upon as the girls attempted to make Liz limp faster. Corbin took the lead, hands behind his head in a relaxed manner whilst keeping a lookout for any other demons. Granted, the Ahiab had been unexpected, but now they knew to keep their eyes and ears open for any other surprises tonight.

It was a shame they hadn't noticed the young, six-year-old boy watching from his parents' bedroom window, yelling out to his mother as his father called the police. All the while, he told them, "There's sick people on the lawn! Four of them, Mommy! Look!"

As soon as his mother did, she wrote down their descriptions and raced for her husband, demanding he tell the police what the "sick people" looked like.

* * *

**There you have it. I had this chapter planned to go completely differently (starting with a conversation between Liz and Cass over how Liz didn't want to learn Spanish) but I honestly think this is ****_way_**** better than what I had before! I'm still waiting on a few character thoughts, but other than that we're ready to go with this thing :D**

**Songs I abused whilst writing this chapter:**

**1. This Fire - Birds of Tokyo**

**2. From the Music - Potbelliez**

**3. Va Va Voom - Nikki Minaj**

**4. Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men**

**5. Undisclosed Desires - Muse**


	4. 2: Nephil Syndrome

Amato let out a huff and glared at his daughter's limping form, displeased with her injury. She knew what to do when fighting against demons unarmed, and yet she still managed to get herself injured.

The teenagers of the New York Institute were all seated in the dining room, lining one side of the table. He and Lucinda sat on the other side, staring down their daughter when she took the only available seat with the other teens. She held in her hand a menu for the local Chinese take out - House of Khong, if he recalled.

"Dinner is on its way," Liz announced, settling into her seat with a smug grin on her face. She'd inherited that grin from Amato himself, who in turn inherited it from his uncle. Amato knew Liz would've loved to meet Elia; it was a shame that he'd been turned into a vampire against his will, only to suffer a death by sunlight the very next day.

Come to think of it, that incident probably set off the hatred that Amato and Liz felt toward daylight every morning.

A loud ding caught everyone's attention, surprising even Jade Clavell, the youngest Shadowhunter present in the Institute. Before long, the sounds of footsteps filled the halls outside the dining room.

"I didn't know the wolves were hiring Shadowhunters to do deliveries," Blake remarked, leaning forward in hopes of seeing what was happening. It didn't seem to help that he was the furthest away from the dining room door, seated at the far end of the line of teens. "Do you know what's going on?" he asked, directing his question to Amato.

Before he could reply, Amato gave himself only time to grin in triumph. It seemed that the children had forgotten who was coming to visit, especially Liz and Corbin. His daughter stared at him with a frown and a glare for a moment, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye. She was trying to figure out what Amato knew, but it was only a matter of time before the surprise arrived.

Her glare intensified, this time sending a demand with it: _What did you do?_

The visitor finally came to a stop at the dining room door, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a smirk lining his features. His rust-coloured hair was messy and a slight stubble lined his jaw, his brown eyes narrowing at Liz and Corbin in amusement. It seemed to finally click in Liz's head, and she slowly began to rise from her seat dramatically.

"_Bastardo_," she announced slowly, drawing out the word in shock.

George grinned back at her, and replied, "Crazy European."

* * *

The night of the charity event rolled around, the trio dressed in their classy clothes as they strutted towards the building confidentally. Jacks had gone to the trouble of making fake identities for them: Sylvester was a famous Russian boxer than had recently won the Moscow title, also known as Gedeon Vasilyev; Beverly had been turned into Alana Pierce, the senior high school student with the highest score in the district (the woman may have been almost thirty, but she sure as hell pulled off seventeen like it was her real age); finally, and funnily enough, Patrick ended up as the son of an Irish duke, who, in his poor health, could not attend the event.

It was a wonder they even got past the first set of security guards...

So now Patrick stood on his own, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and keeping the other in his pocket, a grip on his phone should he geta vibrate out of it. That was how it was planned - if one of them spotted a security guard checking them out, keeping them on their watch list, they'd get a vibration from their phone: One for Sylvester, two for Beverly, and three for Patrick.

Not wanting to finish his drink, Patrick set it aside on one of the circular tables provided to the guests, knowing that some champagne-loving snob would probably come over and take it five minutes later. It was nearing the time that the founder of this event and cause would start a presentation and speech, explaining how he'd come across this "sickness" and why he was so adamant in "curing" it. Patrick found himself believing it was all bullshit - nothing but a publicity stunt. For all anyone knew, these tattooed people that saw demons and claimed the existence of vampires and werewolves were people in a gang that dabbled in drugs. How else would they all have similar tattoos and share similar hallucinations? Patrick resisted the urge to shake his head in disappointment. Utter bullshit, especially if he could rationalise it so _easily_.

He fixed the tie of his white tuxedo, trying to give himself something to do until he found someone he could pickpocket from. So far no one had brought any purses to carry around, no money-waving that he could take advantage of, nothing. It was kind of boring him, what with all the security watching anyone that passed the money jar and with everyone actually keeping how rich they were underwraps. They were probably putting whatever money they brought with them in that damned jar and paid for everything via credit card. If that were the case, the plan had long since gone down the drain; if anything, the plan was on its way to a sewerage treatment farm or something.

An elderly-looking man walked onto the stage that overlooked the entire room, clearing his throat as he tested the microphone. Once he as certain that it was in working order, he announced, "If everyone could please take a seat, the presentation will begin."

People flocked the the tables, and as Patrick returned to the table he set the champagne on, he noticed the glass lifting off of the table by a slender hand, the hand belonging to someone covered in various black tattoos. He raised a confused brow, unsure of what to think, but brushed it off. The woman was probably just a big fan of tribal patterns or something.

As soon as he took his seat with three other people - one of whom was the girl who'd picked up his champagne - the founder of the event took centre stage. He was a man of almost six foot, greying blonde hair and a van dyke. He looked as though he'd been pulled out of a Dudley Dooright cartoon, what with his top hat and pointed-shoes, let alone his long coat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he started, "we have gathered here to fight a sickness that has been growing under our noses for _centuries_, undetected until today."

Patrick rolled his eyes, as did the girl seated at beside him. She looked just as bored as him, but those tattoos were just so hard to ignore...

"I would like to begin by saying that I am grateful for your donations, and I hope that it should soon help to find a cure to what we're fighting." He cleared his throat and continued on, "Years ago, I was approached by a man who said that his wife was sick, slowly dying of something neither could pinpoint. It came out of nowhere, he'd told me, and that his wife was supposed to be stronger than what he'd seen of her. Now, when I'd heard him mention her strength, I'd asked him what he meant. That's when I learned about a group of people called Nephilim."

The girl beside Patrick visibly tensed up, blue eyes widening and narrowing in shock. He felt a bit of suspicion rising within him; was she one of these Nephilim, or someone she knew?

That was ridiculous - it was all bullshit, and Patrick knew it.

"Now, these 'Nephilim' are supposed to be strong, covered in tattoos, and able to see 'demons' and whatnot. I believe that this insanity is induced by the sickness, and from the stories I've heard from people who have seen them, I sadly say that this syndrome of sorts comes in many stages - the first of which are hallucinations. It is then followed by the obssession with an 'angel' called Raziel, which is then followed by strange tattoo-like marks appearing on the skin - the most common being one that resembles an eye, usually on the top of the hand."

Cautiously, Patrick glanced down at the girl's hand. Sure enough, a tattoo resembling an eye was right on top of it, bold as black ink.

"We've named this 'Nephil Syndrome', seeing as these people refer to themselves as Nephilim instead of humans. They also seem to call us mundanes. Sadly, the Syndrome _is_ passed on through generations. This means that it is dominant in the bloodline and, despite how far back the first relative with Nephil Syndrome was in the family, it never dies out in the family.

"My aim is to find these people suffering from the Syndrome and to help cure them, and I give you all my eternal thanks for helping me with my goal." He paused for a moment, looking offstage at a group of people working with a laptop. On the screen appeared to be a picture of four people, mug shots, most likely. "While we haven't been able to find many sufferers on our own, we finally have information on a small group of teenagers suffering from it - if you see anyone that looks like these four on the screen, please call the number provided underneath." On command, the wall behind him lit up with a square image, the four faces on the laptop now displayed on the white wall for everyone to see.

At first Patrick didn't know what to think; he was seeing the faces of four teenagers, three girls and one boy, and it didn't help that he had the urge to inspect Tattoo Girl's face. The thought that maybe it wasn't all bullshit was running through his mind, aslo; this wasn't something he liked. So, to stop his thoughts, he took a peek at the four faces.

The first he inspected was the boy's - dark hair, curled a bit, kind of an older-looking face that belonged to a young adult. He felt as though he were looking at a high school photo instead of a facial recognition picture.

The second one was a girl with curled hair, obviously dark from how much the pencil had been used to darken it. The artist had also deliberately given her eyes a bit of shine, implying they were bright.

The third one, the second girl, also had dark hair, but this time straight - like a ruler - and probably only a few inches above the shoulders. Her face kind of reminded him of old Hollywood stars, a few of which he couldn't remember the names of.

The final one, the last girl, had long hair, lighter than the rest of them and slightly tangled - almost as though she'd been in a bit of a tumble when her appearance was noted. Her eyes were narrowed a bit, and there was less colour in her skin than from the others' - perhaps she was pale?

Patrick glanced at Tattoo Girl, who also appeared to be quite pale.

_Stop it_, he told himself. _She's probably just another guest hoping to donate._

He continued to rationalise to himself, when he heard a British voice mutter, "Disgusting. We're not sick and we're not insane. You just can't see what we can."

It took him a moment to realise that it was Tattoo Girl who had spoken. It also took him another moment to realise, when the man beside her suddenly grabbed her arms and announced, "It's her!", that she was the last girl on the screen.

Things just got interesting.

The man was suddenly thrown back by a quick-footed teen, one that wasn't in the pictures and obviously on Tattoo Girl's side. She seemed to give him a reluctant nod of thanks before trying to run for an exit, only to have every security guard in the place race for them. Both backed away slowly, the male reaching into his jacket and pulling out a strange-looking device. His thumb mashed the button on it, and then every light in the room went out, a commotion of gasps and screams sounding throughout the room. Patrick felt himself smirk. Maybe the plan wasn't completely down the drain yet.

He jumped out of his seat and ran back to the table with the money jar, picking it up and continuing out until he reached the outside world. He went to reach for his pocket and pull out his phone, only to feel nothing inside it. Where was his phone? Had someone knocked it off? No, no one could pickpocket and pickpocket, couldn't they?

Patrick growled to himself and continued to get away from the building. Sylvester and Beveryly knew that, if the jar wasn't there, then Patrick had taken it and run off with it. At least, he hoped they knew.

A few moments of running passed and he soon became tired, in dire need of a breath. Making sure he wasn't seen, he turned in the direction of an alley.

* * *

"I swear, I had no idea we were seen!"

George raised an eyebrow at Liz, ignoring their _parabatais _for the moment. "Oh, really?" he drawled. "Well, from the looks of those pictures, I'd say you and Cass practically _modeled_ for them."

The younger Shadowhunter scowled at him, about ready to give him a trip down memory lane. Liz was also desperately wishing that Cass would speak up, defend them both, but only recieved silence. Cass was pretty tired, it seemed; hardly enough energy to argue against George, of all people.

Mamoru stepped forward, standing by George's side, and told him, "Lay off until we get back - we need to figure out what to do with all these mundanes suddenly being able to see us."

Taking a deep, unhappy breath, George nodded and turned on his heel. He was about to leave, lead them back to the Institute in any way that didn't slow them down with Liz's limp. Instead he was met by a very shocked teen in a tuxedo, a jar filled with money in one hand and a dagger in the other. The foursome blinked in surprise, barely hearing him approach.

A sudden idea came to Liz, who sized up the teen. A head of dark red hair that resembled a buzz cut, dark green eyes, quite a bit of height on him, obviously knew how to stand when holding a knife in a defensive manner. She could probably pull off an interrogation.

"Did you see me before or after the pictures were shown?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow. Cass gave her a surprise stare while George glanced at her in annoyance.

The teen smirked. "Kind of hard to miss a face like yours, sweetheart," he taunted, voice carrying an Irish lilt to it.

"_Tu, piccolo flirtare_," she muttered under her breath. "So, that's a 'before', then?"

He nodded. Liz let out a hum and looked to Mamoru, who nodded and said to George, "Amato may want to have a word with this one."

While George made the long processes of coming to a decision, Cass approached Liz and nudged her with her elbow. "Quick thinking, there," she praised. "Too bad you couldn't do it with the Ahiab."

"You're not letting me live that down, are you?"

Cass shook her head. "Never."

"Alright," George announced. He glared at the Irish boy, grounding out, "We won't force you to, but our guardian may want to talk to you. You can see us, which is rare, and he might want to ask you some questions."

A long stretch of silence followed, the Irish teen unsure of what to do or say as he remained in his defensive stance, money in one hand and dagger in the other. Everyone was anticipating his response, even himself, judging by the confliction in his eyes. Liz was sure he was about to deny them.

"What's your name?"

All eyes went to Cass, who stared at the boy evenly with her golden eyes. She looked entirely calm, sure that she'd get an answer to her question. She did, too.

"Patrick," he replied. "Yours?"

"Cassandra. Some people call me Cass or Cassie." She gestured to Liz with a small wave of her hand. "This is Lizabeth, but everyone calls her Liz. Make sure you don't call her _E_lizabeth; she'll get mad if you do."

Jumping in for kicks, Liz went on, "The arse that just spoke to you is George. Feel free to call him whatever you like - he's a bastard." She nodded to his _parabatai_. "The guy next to him is Mamoru. He's from Japan, in case you're wondering."

Patrick gave them both confused looks, ignoring George's annoyance in Liz's introduction. Just from that moment of introducing themselves, Liz knew he'd say a reluctant yes. It was quick thinking on Cass's part, too - Liz would never have thought of asking for his name and showing trust in revealing her own. She really needed to figure out better ways to convince people of things.

After a large pause, Patrick finally lowered his dagger and stood straight. "Okay," he breathed. "I'll come. But the moment things get crazy, I'm gone."

"Well," Liz said, sighing, "enjoy your two minutes in our life, then."

* * *

**I'm happy with this chapter - I'm pretty sure I didn't get any spelling mistakes in it this time, so I'm happy. Introduction to a new character (and, yes, George ****_is_**** in this) so I'll be sure to put up Mamoru and George's information soon.**

**I'm also happy that you guys are enjoying this - I usually have a hard time thinking up villains and their causes, let alone what they have to do with the main characters and all that. Virtual brownies for whoever can guess who's family is involved in this whole "Nephil Syndrome" situation, by the way. (See what I did there with that, too?) I had a hard time "diagnosing" the Syndrome, too, and had to make it sound like a fatal thing that led to insanity and strange marks that were inexplicable, but I feel like I failed in that part a bit... Oh, well.**

**As usual, here're the songs I listened to this chapter (Birds of Tokyo have been doing a lot of good ones lately -3-)**

**Songs I abused whilst writing this chapter:**

**1. Lanterns - Bird of Tokyo**

**2. Fighter - Gym Class Heroes**

**3. Mind Your Manners - Chiddy Bang**


	5. 3: Sending the Messenger

**A virtual brownie to **village bicycle** for the guessing which character's family was involved in the guy's story in the last chapter ^.^ Well done~!**

**Know who we haven't seen in a while that we ****_know _****is in the Institute? Church. That's right; I forgot the cat. *Gasp* T'is unspeakable, I say!**

**Pretty big time skip to the next day in this chapter, but unlike when Clary went home to get some stuff, I kind of don't want anything to go wrong with Patrick returning for some of his stuff. M'kay? M'kay.**

* * *

Liz knew this was not going to end well. A mundie, touring through the Institute after saying he'd leave when things got weird? Yeah, she didn't expect more than a fifteen minute stay from him. Hell, she didn't even expect that much of a stay!

So when George and Mamoru had taken him to see Amato, she was shocked to find that a whole hour had passed without some sign of this Patrick character leaving. At first she'd thought Mamoru might've kung-fu'd the Irish boy with one of those grips that knocked you unconscious for a period of time, only to realise that it wouldn't have worked in their favour - Amato kind of needed Patrick conscious in order to talk with him. Her second thought had been that the poor mundie had passed out from shock, but she figured that he was a little less dramatic than that. Plus, well, he wasn't all that fazed when Sir Top Hat had explained the whole "Nephil Syndrome" fiasco. Hell, he even looked like he was rationalising and feeling like he was being fed utter bull crap.

She couldn't blame him, either - it _was_ all utter bull crap.

When another hour had come and gone, a knock sounded from her door just as she was about to turn the page from her book. She called out for whoever it was to come in, and was met by Church rushing inside with Blake at his heels. Behind Blake was Dez, who absolutely refused to be called Desmira, her full name.

Held in their hands were boxes of Chinese food. Liz felt herself smirk as she made room for them on her bed.

"How's your leg?" Blake asked her, pulling a bit of pork out of his box. "Cass said the limp was a little bad tonight."

Liz huffed and stabbed a noodle with her fork. She could never get the hang of using chopsticks, always flung them across the room whenever she used them. "That's kind of what happens when a guy who recognises you from your mug shot rips you out of your chair and manhandles you like you're some kind of stuffed animal."

A stifled laugh came from Dez, who shook her head in disbelief. "That's just sad, Evergreen," she giggled to herself. Liz glared at her, just barely resisting the urge to pelt teriyaki chicken at her.

It was kind of funny; Dez and Blake were usually the ones she hung out with whenever Amato was in a meeting and everyone else was going to bed - Blake had always had trouble sleeping come nightfall, and Dez just crashed anywhere. (So many times Liz had gone to get a midnight snack, only to find Dez curled up in a cupboard. Oh, how she'd had a heart attack that night...)

The first time she's stood the two of them side-by-side, she'd almost sworn they were a genderbent variant of the first and second player in a video game. While Blake was a sort of baby-faced boy with baby-blonde hair and sapphire-like eyes, Dez was a dark-blonde wild child who knew how to push everyone's buttons, a plan of mischief always forming in those green-hazel eyes of hers. What's more was that one of them was always quiet and polite, ever-smiling, while the other was back-chatty and loved a good party, more so a marvelous prank.

It was a wonder the three of them got along so well on their late night get-togethers.

"So," Liz sighed, scratching Church behind the ear as he passed by, "how was your night, guys?"

The next hour continued on like this, sometimes with jokes exchanged and sometimes with rants put out in the open. It kind of made Liz think back to before she'd known the two of them, before any of the new additions had come in. It had just been her and Corbin against James and George, and even then she wasn't as outgoing as she was now. But now they had backup, she knew. Everyone here knew Corbin better than the bastard did.

Besides, Liz had been meaning to test her Romanian on someone - who better than a guy that needed a good talking to?

It wasn't until somewhere around one in the morning that Mamoru knocked on Liz's door, entering only to say, "He'll be staying here for a few days, but only after he goes back to his home to get a few things." After a pause, he added, "Good thinking with the question, too. We might never have brought him back if we didn't know he had Sight."

Dez nudged Liz with a, "Yeah, Evergreen," as Mamoru closed the door behind him, going off to do whatever it was he did. (According to George, Mamoru had a habit of "wandering" whenever he was bored. She half-hoped every night that he wouldn't wander around, praying that he was in a drawing mood for a good solid hour.)

"By the way," Liz started, finally realising something. "How the heck did you two get the Chinese food here without the bell going off? We ate the leftovers three days ago..."

The duo glanced at each other and grinned back at the older teen, telling her in unison, "That's our little secret."

She stared at them with a deadpan expression, her eyes half-covered by their lids. She shrugged and continued on eating. "Fair enough."

* * *

Patrick had been staying a total of six hours since he got back, and so far no one had recognised him or Amato as they returned to Patrick's place to get a few things. Something wasn't right, though. Liz just knew her father had picked up on something going on - something _not right._ She was tempted to ask him when he came back, see if something was wrong, but instead decided not to bother him: He was tired, evident by the bags under his eyes and the slouch in his walk. Did he even get a wink of sleep last night? No, probably now - that wasn't the face of a man who had a minimum of two hours' sleep, rather the face of a man who was restless, unable to slow his thoughts.

Liz waited for night to roll around so she could talk with him while the others slept, hopefully see if she could get a weight off of him by having him talk to her, but she knew it wouldn't be that easy. So there she sat in the dining room, sipping a comically large mug of coffee with _The Shadowhunter's Codex_ placed in front of her. She was skimming over the pages, reading about the Fey when George walked into the room. She paid him no mind, ignoring the quizzical look he threw her way, and turned a page nonchalantly.

"This is new," he muttered to himself. Liz continued on to ignore him, took a sip of her coffee. She was almost done with it, the whole thing nearly drained of the brown beverage, and she just knew she'd need to get up to make herself another one soon.

George settled into the seat across from her, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out what she was doing. This was the girl who openly called people bastards when she was eight, not to mention attacked anything that dared harm her friends, and yet she was doing to most tranquill thing a Shadowhunter was capable of: Reading and drinking something with milk and sugar in it.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked. She shrugged, turned another page, this time landing in a section about Raziel, the creator of the Nephilim. George paused before asking his next question, unsure if he'd get a yell out of her. "Are you okay?"

At this she looked up, for once not giving him a glare upon doing so. Instead she grinned at him, amused by the question. "I'm sorry," she taunted, "but did you just let go of your vendetta-hate toward me and act like you _cared_?" She closed the book and stood, draining the rest of her coffee. "The world must be coming to an end."

If George had any kind of concern that something was wrong, it was gone now; Liz was thankful for that. As he stormed out of the room, forgetting what he'd come in for, she felt her amused smile fall back into a tired frown. Where George had learned to care like that, she'd never know. All she knew was that he wanted her alive so he could exact his revenge, and she needed to start planning her fake death.

She didn't really want to disappear, per say. Really, she just wanted to see the bastard's face when he thought she was dead. Amato even approved of this plan, encouraged her to go on with it; obviously he was betting against her mother on the topic.

She began to make herself another cup of coffee, dropping the mixture into the cup with a generous amount of sugar to top it off. She never added sugar after hot water and milk; always put the milk in last. She gave herself some time to think whilst the water boiled over the stove, her mind whirring with possible ways to start a conversation about what her father was hiding. She gave up on the topic just thirty seconds later, her eyes trailing toward _The Shadowhunter's Codex_. What if they weren't Nephilim? What if Liz had been born mundane, with mundane parents and mundane friends, oblivious to the world hidden from munides? Would she still see the Shadowhunters as just that, or would she see them as that ridiculous man portayed them? The questions were so vital to her, and she doubted she'd have the same opinion of them if she were one of the mundies. But that would mean she wouldn't know the people she knew now: Magnus Bane, the Warlock her parents had introduced upon arrival in New York, not to mention the High Warlock of Brooklyn; Simon Lewis, the Daylighter who actually knew the famous parents of Adrian Lightwood, more so was their friend and ally in the war Valentine had waged against the Clave; everyone in the Institute itself, be they her enemies or her friends; her own parents, for crying out loud!

A shudder ran through her, the very thought of being born to different parents disturbing her.

The water was finlly boiled and Liz quickly poured it into the mug, making sure it didn't have time to cool before she added the milk. Once that was done, she leaned her back against the counter and took a quick sip. She was going to get an addiction to this stuff if she kept up this habit, even if it was only for today.

"Lizabeth."

She blinked in surprise and turned her head toward the speaker, spotting Amato standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was dressed in Shaodwhunter gear, weapons and all, and his eyes still looked tired from his stress and worries. "Are you busy?" he asked. She shook her head and beckoned him over, offering her coffee to him before he could say anything to her. Despite how hot it was, he took a swig of it and handed it back to her, stifling a small yawn as he did so.

"Problem, Dad?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow. He half-shrugged, sighing.

"Your mother is worried that these people are going to find you and the others, especially since they have pictures of most of you, have seen what you look like. As such, I've decided to keep you, Corbin, Cass, Riley, George, and Mamoru indoors until this whole fiasco dies down. Aside from that, if the mundanes try to hunt you all down, they won't be able to reach you in the Institute." He frowned at the sentence, displeased with it. So was Liz, but she let him go on uninterrupted. "It's sundown. I'm going to go out and investigate a few things - figure out where this all started from. Frankly, the only person we know of that had a Shadowhunter wife of failing health was Dez's father, but I'd rather not jump to comclusions at this point. I'll also be going to the nearby Downworlder haunts to warn everyone in case these people start targeting the Downworlders as well. I can't be too sure with this problem."

He paused for a moment, waiting for her to say something. She didn't, fully agreeing with him on his choice. All she worried about was people seeing his Marks and reporting him to the police. "Go on," she said slowly.

Amato fidgeted on the spot; something he never did on a daily basis. "There's a chance I may have to stay somewhere other than the Institute when I begin my warnings to the Downworlders. If that's the case, I'll be staying most likely with Magnus or the Downtown Pack. While I do that, I want you to make sure Luce doesn't get too stressed with running the place in my absense. And if she does, I want you to take a temporary control of the place - use the trust everyone has in you so you can keep things under control." He paused again, making a squirmish face. "Somewhat control, at least," he added uncertainly.

Liz grinned at her father, sipping her coffee. "You're reading too much into this," she told him. "Besides, if I was seen and found out at a charity event and _still_ managed to get back home with a limp, I'm sure you - a healthy, experienced, and wise Shadowhunter - will have better chances of making it back safely. Plus," she added, "it's not like you'll be going out to kill demons; no one will be looking for a person taking a stroll, will they?"

At her reply he grinned, lifting a hand to her head and ruffling her hair. She swatted it away in annoyance, still giving him her own grin as he turned on his heel and left the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, she glanced down at her coffee, still able to smell its scent from the small amounts of steam and heat rising out of it. She really did wonder if he'd be okay, outside the Institute with people who were believing a lie that said Nephilim were sick.

_He'll be fine_, she told herself. _Just remember what you told the bastard when you were eight: He'd best stay away from me if he judged me through my parents. That obviously speaks levels about Dad's skills, Liz._

Still, she reminded herself, there was that little bit of doubt that everyone had in their heads; that little piece of hopelessness that just sat there and waited to be felt, always at the edge of the mind in a crisis.

With a huff, she took a sip of her coffee. He'd be fine, end of discussion.

* * *

**I just can't stop with this story (hoorah)! It's got a hold of me!**

**I wasn't sure how I'd end this chapter, but I feel pretty okay with what's there. No music list this chapter, as well, because half of this was written at school and the other half I wrote whilst listening to Doctor Who on T.V.**

**Till next chapter, then ^.^**


	6. 4: The Manhunt Begins

The High Warlock of Brooklyn hadn't been expecting anyone to visit him the morning after his biggest party of the month, nor had he been expecting an old friend of his to stay the night with her "date", as she had put it. Magnus reminded himself that nothing ever went as planned, but just couldn't imagine himself being so optimistic at this ungodly hour.

By the time he'd made it to his buzzer and responded to whoever was requesting him, Melody Jane Daniels herself had stumbled out of the spare room with a mischievous grin on her face and a glint in her dark, solid blue eyes. Typical Fey expression, he noted. She skipped over to the pantry as Magnus's door opened, revealing a brunette Shadowhunter who was un-Marked and unarmed.

"Amato Evergreen," Magnus announced, his eyebrows shooting up. He hadn't been expecting Amato, of all people, to be visiting him.

The Italian Shadowhunter nodded in response, adding, "May I come in?"

Magnus stood aside and held the door open, noticing Mel had finally settled onto a plastic stool with a slice of toast in her hand. She smiled in recognition of the man, obviously excited to see him; she always was when it came to married couples. Amato entered the Warlock's house with a bit of reluctance in his step, but finally managed to make it to the middle of the room. Magnus silently wondered to himself how many years it had been since the two had last spoken, with or without the Shadowhunter's wife and daughter with him.

"What's the problem?" Magnus asked, moving toward a mirror hung on his wall. Mel had given it to him as a gift at least a decade ago, its vine borders adding a bit of Faerie class to the decoration. He fixed his hair a bit, frowning at the big cockatoo spine that had stuck itself up in his sleep.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed before Amato finally sat down at a stool in the kitchen, waiting for Magnus to join him and Mel. The Fey was just as curious as Magnus was once he walked into the room, but neither said a word. Amato released one tired breath, squeezing the bridge of his nose with him thumb and index finger. It was only now that Magnus noticed how tired the man was, how frustrated he appeared. Something was up - something Magnus was inevitably going to be involved in.

"Mundanes are on to us," Amato said. "They're after the Nephilim and already have pictures of four of us."

"I assume Liz is one of them?" Magnus cut in. The man only offered a displeased huff in response, answer-enough to Magnus's assumption. What was he going to do with that girl?

"I get the feeling it's going to stretch to the Downworlders once they learn more about the Shadowhunters, and in this day and age I can't help but worry for you guys."

Mel, finally speaking up since he'd arrived, blinked in confusion. "We're strong and we're hidden; how could you possibly worry? Not that I don't like the worry," she added with a cheeky smile. Magnus was quick to answer, giving Amato a little time to compose himself.

"Humans are evolving," he explained. "More and more of them are gaining the Sight, even though they're rare in this part of the country. Sometimes it's mostly children that see us - children who aren't yet used to reality - but nowadays our 'legends' are being investigated." Amato nodded in agreement.

He sighed, "I only came here to warn you, Magnus. However, I have taken the precaution of putting my family in charge of New York. Don't get too worked up," he added when Magnus began to interrupt. "They haven't seen me before, I'm not Marked, and I have no weapons. Unless they give my hand a second glance, I'll be fine."

At that he stood and began to walk out of the room, his steps slow and sluggish. Magnus actually found himself to be genuinely worried about the Shadowhunter, which wasn't something he did often for their kind.

So, naturally, to cover up this worry, Magnus called after Amato, "Look in the mirror, for once - it's obvious you need sleep."

* * *

"Okay, so, let me get this straight."

The group groaned once again, displeased by the fact that Patrick was _still_ trying to grasp the concept of the whole Shadowhunter/Downworlder/demon situation.

"So," he breathed, "you're all these warriors with angel blood in you." Everyone nodded. "And these..._Downworlders_ are _people_-"

"Aside from the Fey," Blake added.

Patrick gave him an odd stare. He'd made it pretty obvious the first night he stayed that he found Blake's constant smiling a little weird. "Right," he said slowly. "Aside from the Fey, all the other Downworlders are people with demon blood...in them?"

Everyone was silent this time, trying to think of a better way to explain how all this crap could possibly make sense, but all Liz could think of was giving him _The Shadowhunter's Codex_; she wasn't so eager to give it to him, mainly because she still needed to read the last few pages. A bit of an awkward silence passed and during it Patrick gave everyone expectant looks. He was waiting for someone to answer him and to let him know he was right or wrong. Liz couldn't bring herself to say it - she was too busy worrying about when George would start to insult Corbin, and what language she would call George a bastard in next.

"I'll explain this once," Mamoru suddenly announced. Everyone jumped and looked to him, surprised he'd said something. "Warlocks are people who have a human mother and a demon father. They can use magic. There are warlocks who can't use magic, and they're called ifrits. Werewolves and vampires are results of a demon disease that alters them - it's passed through certain ways. For a vampire, you have to drink some of their blood, be drained of blood by a vampire, and then be buried so that you can be reborn. For a werewolf, you have to be bitten by a fully-transformed werewolf. The odds of changing from human to werewolve are fifty-fifty, which is why there aren't as many werewolves as you'd think."

Patrick nodded slowly. "Okay..." he said. "And the Fey are...?"

"They say that the Fey are the result of a demon and an angel having a child. They can't lie, they can't touch iron, and they have kidnapped and replaced children with their own before. They're called Changlings."

A nod. Everyone let out a sigh of relief and sank into their chairs, finally able to get the whole confusion out of the way. Liz felt a little relief: Now she could leave and train or something; just do something other than explain something so surprisingly complicated!

"Doesn't change the fact that I'd still hit on you lovely ladies," Patrick added with a gleam in his eye. He was glancing between all of the girls, and Liz found herself thankful that Lucinda wasn't there to scold him senseless.

Instead of leaving, she leaned forward teasingly - as did Dez and Cass. "Honey, you aren't ready to join the darker side of the love life," Liz teased. Dez let out an evil giggle.

"Hasn't stopped us before," she added lightly. Cass gave a small smirk of agreement.

"You mean it hasn't stopped _you _before," she joked.

The boys stared at them with blank faces, unsure of how to go on with the conversation after those three sentences. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, George made his way over to Patrick and grabbed the younger boy's sleeve, pulling him out of his chair.

Taking on a leaderly air, he ordered, "Come on, mundie. We've got to get you educated."

Patrick showed a bit of resistance before letting George drag him out of the room, and all everyone could do was watch as Mamoru followed them out into the halls.

Well, Liz's entertainment for the evening was now gone. _And_ she didn't even get to call George a bastard in another language, either. Her evening was just _ruined_.

A small yawn escaped her as she stretched her arms, a few of the teens leaving the room to get something to eat. Liz waited until everyone was done with getting out of their seats or staying in them. Once they were, only she, Corbin, and Jade remained. She began to feel a little bad, deep down in her stomach; she and Jade hadn't had time to chat for a while, and although they never did get much time anyway, it still felt a little like she'd failed in the "figurative big sister" department.

As a way to start a conversation, she began with, "So... A mundie in the Institute."

Jade was quick to reply, pointing out a very true fact. "The last mundane to step into this particular Institute was turned into a vampire, and then into a Daylighter. Nothing good could become of this, but Patrick seems alright. I mean, he'll be keeping Dez busy for a while if we're lucky."

Liz snorted a laugh and looked to Corbin, waiting for his answer. Well, she hadn't really asked anything, but maybe he had something to say. Then again, he wasn't the type to put in his opinion willingly.

"What say you, Grayson?" she asked lightly. "There's another guy here for you to get along with, and it's pretty clear he doesn't like the bastard. That's a win-win right there, yeah?"

All Corbin offered was a half-shrug, his mind apparently elsewhere at that given moment. Liz and Jade glanced at each other, blue eyes meeting hazel. What was on Corbin's mind? He looked a little more than distant, but he was never distant when it came to these two - he actually liked having conversations with them, despite his awkwardness around all of the girls.

Finally Liz asked him, "What's up, Corbin?"

He glanced in their direction, then quickly focused on the table, his coffee mug suddenly the point of interest. It wasn't like Liz's big one; Corbin's was actually the most plain one anyone owned. Liz's mind trailed off, thinking of whose coffee mug was the one with the funniest line written on it, but soon came back to earth when Corbin announced, "Something doesn't add up."

"What do you mean?" Jade asked, interested.

"Well..." He fidgeted, frowning. "It's just- Why are these people suddenly seeing us? Liz, you said so yourself that not even the security guards gave you a second glance, and that the guy at the table hadn't seen you until your picture was displayed. People don't learn the truth that way unless they're tricked into it, but I can't see how you'd trick someone into gaining the Sight."

Liz blinked. "So you're saying that none of this adds up?"

He nodded, then added, "Blake might be able to piece together a better summary or whatever, but the punchline is that this guy is trying to out us for the sake of giving people something to want gone. He's making us look like the damn boogeyman."

"He's convincing them with fear."

The three of them jumped at the new voice in the room, their eyes landing on none other than Blake Feuer. He was standing in the doorway with his hands in the pocket of his skinny jeans, a small smile on his face. "I'm also touched that you'd come to me for something like this," he added, thanking Corbin for the honerable mention.

"Fear?" Jade repeated. Blake nodded. "Wait, he's making us look like the bad guys so he can out us?"

Blake strolled into the room and took a seat near them, shaking his head with his smile still on his face. "You're close; he wants to make us look like bad guys so that people with Sight can report some of us seen. When they get those IndentiKit pictures of us out into the open, people start to get paranoid and look for people that look like us - in other words, they're being _forced_ to learn the truth instead of being eased into it like the last mundane did."

"_Oh_," the three said in unison. Liz went on, "But what about Sir Top Hat?"

"Sir Top Hat?" Blake laughed. "I'd say he was looking for a perfect moment to put his plan into use. I mean, you don't just come up for a medical diagnosis for an ill wife who is supposed to be stronger on the spot. I honestly think the story of the sick Nephilim wife was just a sort of scapegoat to cover up his real story."

The trio gave him wide-eyed stares, stunned at how quickly he'd come up with this. Blake seemed to crumble under those stares, mistaking them for a demand to go on. "That's all I've managed to figure out," he added nervously. "Sorry."

* * *

Another whole day had passed and the residents of the Institute were slowly becoming bored. Liz was getting so sick of nothing that she'd begun considering playing poker with Mamoru - George had said he was a genius at it, but Liz didn't even want to know if she should test it.

Church rolled onto his back, exposing his belly to the antsy girl. She couldn't resist giving it a little poke, earning a warning stare from the feline as he rolled back onto his side. Liz didn't bother him again afterwards, settling back into her bed and picking up her new book. She'd put _The Shadowhunter's Codex_ away for a while, allowing Patrick time to read it, and instead pulled out the one book she could feel happy with: _Alice in Wonderland_. She'd always loved the nonsense Lewis Carrol had put into the story, and the fact that it still existed in popular culture to this day.

"Would it be ridiculous," she asked the cat beside her, "if I imagined myself as Alice and you as the Cheshire Cat?"

Church gave a yawn in response.

"Thought so," she muttered.

She wasn't sure how long it took, nor what page she was up to, when she fell asleep in her boredom. Her dream had taken a while to emerge, suddenly lighting up the darkness of her deep sleep. Although, soon after it began, she didn't think it deserved to be called a dream.

In this nightmare she was living her one fear: Being stuck inside a small space. But this was different. She was stuck inside a pure white room, with white tiles and white walls, and she was even dressed in white hospital scrubs. The walls were bare of windows and doors, the ceiling made entirely of glass. It wasn't a very high one - probably only six and a half, maybe seven feet high. It still felt pretty small, though; especially when the people looking down into the room where watching her in intrigue.

"I wonder if they breathe underwater, like those one that can't touch iron," one said.

"I think they might have an immunity to fire," another argued.

Before Liz knew what was going on, a whirring sound came from the ground, followed by a cold and liquidy feeling at her feet. She looked down, spotting water rising up from the floor and slowly covering her feet. By the time it reached her ankles, she finally spotted where it was coming from: Four holes, one in each wall, with water just flowing out of them.

The water was at her knees, her body frozen with fear. The room was getting smaller, smaller, until-

"Lizabeth!"

Her mother's hysterical scream woke her up in an instant. She was back in her room, sprawled out on top of the bed, while her mother was now bounding in through the door. The woman looked distraught and scared as she entered the room, a torn open envelope in her hands.

"Lizabeth, tell me I'm hallucinating!" she ordered, thrusting the envelope to her daughter. "Tell me it's not real!"

Confused, Liz sat up and took the envelope from Lucinda, feeling something heavier than paper inside. She took a peek, spotting something small and roundish, and reached inside to pull it out. It felt cold, metallic, and once it was in the palm of her hand she knew what it was. The Evergreen family ring sat in the middle of Liz's palm, the emblem of the leaf lit on fire staring right back at her. The ring was too big to be hers or her mother's - it had to be Amato's.

"_Per l'Angelo..._" she whispered. Panic settling in, she frantically reached into the envelope for the letter, only to feel small pieces of paper. It took her a moment to realise that, instead of paper, they were photographs. She yanked them out, two of them falling out of her grasp and onto the bed. She didn't worry about those, merely stared at the first one in her hand. The picture of of a man's face - like a the mug shot police take of criminals; the paper with the crook's details was there, as was the height chart. But what confused Liz most of all was the person in the picture. Why would her father - her own _father_ - be in this photo? She read over the numbers and letters on the paper in front of him, spotting the words she was dreading: _Patient No. 032, Nephil Syndrome._

"They have Dad." Her breathing began to speed up, her thoughts racing. "They know where we are - we're not safe." Liz gasped. "Idris."

The mother and daughter stared at each other in shock, knowing full-well what this meant. If a petty organisation such as this could capture a Shadowhunter disguised as a mundane and even find the location of the Institute, then what would become of Idris?

What would become of the Nephilim?

* * *

**There we go - Magnus and Mel have been brought into the story :D Again, no list of songs here because I did this bit by bit (which is why it took so long) and my computer actually got hacked after I saved the first half of it (again, why it took so long).**


	7. 5: Questions

"...And that's what we think has happened."

Liz, too depressed to even know why she was in the room with the older Shadowhunters and the Downworlders, tried her best to stay focused. Three Downworlders she knew were here, being the last ones of their kind to see Amato, and she'd thought she would've been just a little more focused. She was wrong, apparently; so, so wrong.

"I'd be more than willing to track him," Magnus pointed out, glancing between the Shadowhunters and Downworlders. The Downworlders with them were Magnus, Demitri, and Mel, as well as the leader of the Falls Pack, located in Downtown Manhattan. Crusoe Falls was a tall, rather lean man with shoulder-length dreadlocks tied behind his head. Piercing his nostril was a single, silver-coloured metal ring - something anyone who did not know of him would believe him to be immune to silver. He'd been remarkably quiet throughout this meeting, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the vampire's hologram with his amber eyes. It was obvious that Crusoe and Demitri didn't like each other; even speaking through a hologram, Demitri refused to be anywhere near the werewolf. From what Liz had heard, the werewolf from Ohio was stubborn and bitter, refusing to have anything to do with the Fey, Lilith's Children, and the Children of the Night.

The other Shadowhunters there aside from Liz and her mother were the eldest ones in the Institute: Mamoru, George, and Corbin. Cass had also been permitted to join them, solely because she was Liz' _parabatai. _As usual, George strayed from Corbin like the younger boy was poison, and Liz waited for the nineteen-year-old to say something, _anything _nasty so she could get up, kick him where it hurt, and call him a heartless monster in three different languages. It didn't seem to be happening, though; George had stayed with Mamoru the whole time, muttering things to the shorter Shadowhunter that Liz couldn't read in his lips.

"I don't think it would be that simple," Lucinda sighed, rubbing her temples. The woman had been up all night, crying and worrying, and now she was forced to face everyone with a less-than-ready expression. Liz found it saddening; there would be no time for her mother to compose herself after the news they'd received, no time to think of a plan.

"Perhaps take it to the Clave?" George suggested, speaking up. "You said so yourself, Mrs Evergreen, they know of us - that means Idris could be in danger. We can't risk losing the home country."

"But what good has the Clave done in the past?" Cass interrupted, glaring at him. "Magnus, tell him what happened when they needed a solution to Valentine's declaration of war."

Magnus sighed and narrowed his eyes, glancing down at Demitri. "You were there, too," he mumbled. Demitri heard him, of course.

"Magnus, dear," he cooed, "you were asked, not I."

With another sigh, Magnus returned his gaze to Cass and replied, "The Clave had suggested we surrender to Valentine. It was then discovered that the Consul, Malachi, was serving under Valentine's command. In the end, it wasn't the Clave the Nephilim and the Downworlders relied on - it was young Clarissa Morgenstern and her power to create new Runes."

George stared at Magnus in surprise, hardly expecting the reply Magnus had given. He looked to his feet in shame, unsure of what to say next. Frowning, Lucinda folded her hands on the table and rested her chin on her forearms.

"We have to think of _something_," she said to herself. "We just can't tell the Clave, lest they try to suggest surrendering again." Lucinda looked to the Downworlders, Crusoe especially. "You were human at least five years ago. Surely there's something you can tell us that can give us the upper-hand - anything to help defend ourselves."

Crusoe gave her a grim stare, his dark brows furrowing as he thought. "Perhaps," he replied. "Then again, this isn't the same world as it was forty years ago. For all we know, the mundanes could be more powerful than us." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, finally forgetting that a vampire was in the room. "I mean, they have drugs - drugs that can make them thrice as strong as they normally are - and they have very advanced weapons."

"What do you mean?" Corbin asked. "We can't do anything?"

Pulling a strained expression, Crusoe rose from his seat and began to slowly pace back and forth, one hand tucked in the pocket of his trousers while the other tapped his thigh. "Not so much as we can't do anything," he said slowly, "but that we can't do much without setting off some kind of mass hysteria. Think about it: A new 'disease' has been set upon the world, and it is apparently as old as the turn from BC to AD. If a whole bunch of people were to suddenly be revealed as people carrying this disease and they try to break one of their own out of a facility treating them, media is going to get involved, manhunts will be innitiated for any of that group still on the run, and people are going to be arming themselves in case one of these sick people decides to, I don't know, break in and start acting crazy. That's not going to end well if you're all that group, guys - especially when you'd be more likely to be shot by some poor bastard who wants to protect their family than you are to encounter a Greater Demon who wants to discuss politics and Jane Austen over tea."

Cass scoffed. "Since when would a Greater Demon do that?"

"That's the damn point!" Crusoe growled. "We can't do anything without returning with some casualties. I don't know about you, but I am not risking my pack for one Shadowhunter. Besides, most of you are children - what can you do when you haven't even finished your training yet?"

Cass gave him a sly grin and looked over to Magnus. "Tell him, buddy."

Magnus rolled his yellow-green eyes in annoyance. "Clarissa was younger than most of them when she led the Shadowhunters to victory."

"That's just Clarissa!" Crusoe gritted his teeth and threw his hands up in exasperation. "I want nothing to do with this until I discuss the topic with my beta and the rest of the pack. Until then, get your white clothes ready - there's a high chance you'll be in mourning soon."

At that he stormed out of the room, leaving the Shadowhunters to stare at the door in offence. How dare he say Amato was most likely dead! Liz knew her own father better than that - she knew he'd be home soon! Crusoe was just being Crusoe, she decided; he was just being a complete moron over the news he'd received.

Lucinda closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, waiting until she heard the sound of the elevator being closed outside the room, and then rubbed her temples with her index and middle fingers. "Magnus, Mel, thank you for coming," she said, voice strangely calm. "Demitri, any help you can offer will be much appreciated. You don't have to help, if you don't want to."

Taking the hint, Magnus and Mel rose from their seats and bid the Shadowhunters farewell, just as Demitri's hologram vanished. The teenagers glanced at one another for a few seconds, only to have Lucinda announce, "Everyone out of the room. I need a moment."

No one disobeyed her or questioned her, and one by one they left the room to do anything but be in her way. As soon as she was out of the room, Liz made a quick turn in the direction of her bedroom. Just as she was about to start walking off to mope and be the angsty teen she was at the moment when Cass reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Liz glanced back at her, wanting to know what was wrong, and was met by the gazes of every other Shadowhunter teen that had been with them.

Cass's face was a mask of determination and concern, a plan forming in those golden eyes.

"Just because the Clave wasn't involved," she said, "doesn't mean that Clarissa and her friends stopped trying to solve the problem."

It took Liz a few seconds to piece together what her _parabatai_ was saying to her, the message sinking in as Cass loosened her grip on Liz's arm. A small smile was forming on her face, various plans and methods coming together at once. Grinning, Liz replied, "Dez saved those wigs from last year's Christmas party, right?"

* * *

Patrick surveyed the girls with raised eyebrows, quite impressed with how much they'd changed in appearance. Cass had pinned up her dark curls, placed a blonde wig over her natural hair, and had even put on some make-up that Dez owned - she now looked like a girl with waves of elbow-length blonde hair, a bit of desert-red eyeshadow and light lip gloss on her face. The change was quite nice, but Patrick thought she looked better with her natural black hair; the colour brought out her eyes better. Next was Liz, whose change was a little odd. He was shocked that hair of such length could be pinned up so easily without a single strand falling out, more so without being discovered under a red wig styled in a bob. He had to hand it to Dez; she knew how to disguise a person. The only other notable features were the lightly drawn on freckles under her eyes and over her nose, as well as the rectangular glasses hiding her eyes.

"Damn," he said. "I don't think anyone would recognise you guys. I mean, you look nothing like the picture they'd shown." He glanced at the boys. "Corbin's got to change, though - the picture of him may have been vague, but people are going to catch on when they see a guy who-"

"Yadda, yadda, yadda," Dez interrupted. "Gimmie a second, okay? I only just finished with Cass three seconds ago."

Patrick threw his hands up in surrender, smirking at the girl as she began to rifle through her box of props. She let out a frustrated huff only a few moments later, nearly throwing the box across the room in search of another. The boys watched her with some confusion as she searched her drawers and under her bed.

"Where are you?" she sang, searching under her bed as though none of them were in the room. "Come out, come- Aha!"

Before any of them could ask what she meant by "Aha", she stood up with a beanie in one hand and a metal ring in the other. Patrick soon realised it was a piercing. "Put this on," she ordered, throwing the beanie to Corbin. He did as told, covering his curls with the woollen thing as she made her way over to him. "Hold still..."

She twisted the piercing until it came apart slightly, leaving enough room for it to slip onto a nostril. Soon enough, Corbin had a fake nose piercing.

"There," Dez said, admiring her work. "Now you won't be recognised much."

"Much?" Corbin echoed, eyebrow raised. Dez ignored him and waved a hand dismissively, ending that conversation and starting another.

She looked between the group curiously, arms folded in front of her. "So it's just you guys going out?" she inquired, tilting her head to the side slightly. Liz nodded, deciding not to elaborate as to why it was just them. "And you need a distraction to keep your mom from hunting you down and lecturing you?" Another nod, this time from all four Shadowhunters. Patrick stared in shock; how bad was Lucinda supposed to be? "I got your back, then. Just call me 'Distracting Dez'."

Liz shot her a grin, giggling evilly. "I think I'll call you 'Dee Dee'."

After a quick argument over Dee Dee and Distracting Dez, the four Shadowhunters and Patrick left the room and headed toward the elevator. They were all silent for a few moments, waiting for it to reach the ground floor, but once it did Cass immediately began to give out suggestions.

The plan she came up with involved them splitting into two groups and checking out a few places. Liz and Corbin were to go in one group, solely to keep Liz from lashing out at George and to keep George from undermining Corbin out loud, and the rest were to go as their own group. Liz had been reluctant at first, but Cass assured her that she and Patrick were force enough to keep George in line. She hadn't mentioned Mamoru in her little "anti-George" group, but it was obvious the boy's _parabatai_ would make sure he played nice. So, while Cass and the others set off in the direction of Taki's, Liz and Corbin headed in the opposite direction, toward the hall where the charity event had been held.

The two walked in silence, just a little bit nervous about what they were doing. Liz had never had to do something like this - never had to act so covert to get information. She supposed it couldn't be avoided; they really needed that information so they could find out what was happening with this whole "Nephil Syndrone" fiasco. Sure, she'd gotten a good deal of information at the event where she'd been recognised, but it wasn't enough. For all she knew, it could've been propaganda; Sir Top Hat could've been lying. That would make Blake's theory even stronger, proving that Sir Top Hat was really scaring people into believing in Shadowhunters.

Liz glanced to her left as they arrived at a set of traffic lights, waiting for the signal to walk again. Corbin shifted uncomfortably next to her, and it took Liz a moment to realise why. A group of three teenage girls were gossiping away beside him, casting flirtatious glances and once-overs in his direction. It didn't take a genious to know what they were saying, especially with how loud they were talking. Liz frowned and slid her arm around Corbin's pulling him toward her possessively. It reminded her of when they were younger - she'd always do it whenever George and James so much as looked at Corbin wrong. Her friend glanced down at her, an awkward expression on his face as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"What are you doing?" he muttered under his breath, loud enough for only Liz to hear. She shrugged and glanced over at the girls, spotting them all scoffing at her in disapproval.

"Playing a game," she replied, just as quiet. Corbin glanced the girls in confusion, catching on to Liz's looks in their direction, and spotted them watching the duo with jealous glares. "It's quite entertaining."

The light signalled for them to go, and Corbin and Liz immediately sped across in hopes of avoiding the girls. Once they made it across the street, they made their way toward the building the event had been held. Liz could remember the way, even though she was a little forgetful when it came to some streets. (That was actually unusual for her, considering how good her memory was.)

Once they made the fifteen minute walk and arrived without harm, Liz and Corbin were met with a sight they had not been expecting.

* * *

Patrick stared at the menu in shock, just about ready to laugh at half of the things on here. Seriously, a whole section for the Fey, a whole section of blood types for vampires? What was wrong with this place?

The four of them had situated themselves at Taki's, a diner that Cass and Liz apparently frequented with everyone else whenever there was no training to do. It was a little odd to be there, though - so many strange creatures were waiting for them inside, demanding to know what was going on with the Nephil Syndrome. Patrick had been put at a booth with George in hopes that Mamoru and Cass would be able to calm everyone. They were apparently wrong in that area, finding themselves met with angry werewolves and demanding warlocks.

"Please," Cass shouted above them. "Calm down. We'll explain everything we know. You just need to-"

"What if you're lying?" a blue-skinned man screamed. According to Cass, he was Mordin Reever, an ifrit - a kind of warlock who was unable to use magic. Patrick kind of pitied him, but also envied him; however, he couldn't figure out why. "What if the Nephilim are sick and these people are trying to protect the rest of us?"

"They wouldn't be preaching to mundanes if that was the case," Mamoru replied. "If you would listen-"

"You're lying! You have to be!"

"Kick 'em out before they infect us!"

"Kill them!"

Patrick knew this was going downhill quicker than they'd expected, but now it was getting ridiculous. Had the Shadowhunters really come here and expected everything to go just dandily? He shook his head in disbelief and sighed, about ready to stand up and suggest they leave for somewhere else. Before he could, though, someone let out a loud yell that silenced the rest of the Downworlders.

The group of non-humans parted in the centre, revealing three people behind them. The two at the back were both men, numerous scars and tattoos on their faces and arms. In front of them was a woman with a menacing glare in her dark hazel eyes. Everyone took an obvious step back, frightened by the intensity of her glare. Patrick silently wondered who this red-haired woman was, and why everyone was so afraid of her.

"I come here to get a feed and somehow find myself in the middle of an argument," she growled, a Southern drawl in her tone. "Y'all better have a good explanation for this."

One of the Fey stepped forward, a scowl on his green face. "Tanith, the Nephilim could be endangering us with thier infection."

The woman - Tanith - sighed audibly and walked through the crowd, making her way toward Mamoru and Cass. Everyone watched her in fear, but still kept close enough to speak and act against her. Tanith turned on her heel once she made it to the front of the croud, her glare replaced by a serious expression.

"If the Nephilim were sick with something called 'Nephil Syndrome', then you would be physically unable to catch it unless they gave birth to you," she explained. "This man claims that the Syndrome runs through the families of Shadowhunters, which means that none of you are at risk of 'catching' this 'infection'." She let out a breath. Clearly she was not enjoying talking about this particular subject. "Now, go back to your meals and leave these poor youngins' alone. I will talk with them."

Everyone obeyed, much to the Irish boy's surprise, and went back to their meals as Tanith had told them to. Once the last Downworlder was seated in a booth and at a table, Tanith guided Cass and Mamoru back to their own booth and waited for them to begin talking. Her two followers stood guard, making sure no one approached them.

"So tell me, Shadowhunters," she said, grinning. "How may a Pack Beta like myself get involved in your little manhunt?"

* * *

**Boom! Tanith! I planned this character with Crusoe with my good friend, zharza, so if you want someone to thank for the werewolves, thank her - I would never have been able to come up with them on my own XD**

**I didn't listen to many songs while writing this chapter, but I do remember:**

**1. 1 2 3 Turnaround - Christian TV**

**2. She Wolf (Falling to Pieces) - Davida Guetta ft. Sia**

**3. Is It True - Nicoleta Dara**

**I shall see you all next chapter~! *Bows***


	8. 6: Infiltration and a Message

"Free the Nephil! Free the Nephil!" the crowd chanted. Liz and Corbin glanced at each other in confusion, unsure of what exactly was going on, and took a few steps closer to the group gathered outside. This big group was full of protesters standing outside the building, signs on their hands as they chanted out rhymes that were based around releasing the Nephilim.

Liz felt a bit of concern rising in her chest, wondering how the Shadowhunters had gathered this many fans in a matter of days. Were they like those people who went the other way for the sake of difference? Or were they genuinely concerned for the poor race? She shook her head. Better not to ask questions for now, lest they stop supporting them for the wrong reasons. Instead of questioning them, she dragged Corbin into the crowd and managed to help them blend in, settling in between a man and his wife and a group of doctors dressed in their lab coats, a couple of nurses in scrubs behind them.

Someone bumped Liz from behind, knocking off her glasses and sending her into a stumble. The person who had bumped her caught her arm, then apologised in a flustered manner. The girl was no older than Liz, sporting a German accent as she apologised over and over again. Liz almost couldn't believe how similar this girl looked to a certain someone, however, and quickly told her everything was alright before picking up the glasses and shuffling away with Corbin. Once they were far enough away, she let out a breath and fixed her wig. Corbin waited for her to explain what was wrong, but didn't get the chance to as the doors to the building opened all of a sudden. It took Liz a moment to realise that they had made their way to the front of the crowd, right in the way of any police officers on the lookout.

This wasn't going to end well...

Three men walked out the doors and addressed the crowd with sneers, their "I'm better than you" expressions as clear as day. The one at the front - an overweight man who obviously indulged on seafood and wine during his meal time - stepped forward slightly, positioning himself almost to the right of Corbin. He was quite bald and looked like he could tone it down a bit with the amount of food he consumed, but Liz made sure to remain out of his sight. The other two positioned themselves either side of him, and Liz's hopes were dashed when a tall, lanky man with pasty skin stood before the two Shadowhunters.

They scanned the crowd, looking for a few people, and then suddenly motioned for one particular person to come toward them. Liz glanced in the direction they'd motioned to, trying to spot who they'd motioned for. Out of nowhere, the German girl from before emerged from the crowd, fixing the cap covering her short blonde hair. Liz blinked, still unsure if she was imagining things, and watched as she approached the fat man and whispered a few things in his ear. He gave her a stunned expression, but agreed to what she was saying nonetheless. She smiled and turned toward the Shadowhunters' area, her dark eyes meeting with Liz's as she beckoned them over with a wide smile. Liz was confused for a moment, pointed to herself to see if this girl was looking at the teens. When she nodded, Liz and Corbin reluctantly walked away from the crowd and toward the four headed toward the doors. The teens joined the German girl, barely speaking, and felt their fingers itch with anticipation as the doors slowly slid shut behind them.

"Honestly, Verena," the lanky man ground out, "why must you always bring friends with you whenever we call for a cover story?"

The German girl grinned at him, her angelic face darkening in the shadows of the room. "Figures you wouldn't work it out, Crawford," she said lightly, lacing her arms around Liz and Corbin's own. She had appeared to be rather small when Liz had seen her outside, but the strength in her arms as she gripped her new friends proved the teen wrong. "I bring friends to get eye-witness account and to provide evidence to my stories. You don't want me making you look bad, do you?"

Crawford was taken aback by her answer, then scowled at her. Liz wasn't sure if she should be amused or concerned. What were they going to see? Why did this Verena girl decide to bring them along? And why did she look like a certain someone from Shadowhunter history?

The fat man cleared his throat, earning everyone's attention as he stood a little straighter. "Verena, Crawfrod; that's enough." He turned his gaze to the Shadowhunters, narrowing his eyes at them. "Who might you two be?"

Completely changing her personality for the next hour or so, Liz beamed at the man and introduced with her best American accent, "Hi, I'm Ruby - a good friend of Verena's. This is Zac."

Corbin gave a little wave. "Hey," he said quietly. Crawford gave them sneers, displeased by them. The fat man, however, looked just that little bit more welcoming.

"Good morning to you both, Ruby and Zac. I am Oswald Fenwick, Executive Director of the Nephil Project." He shook Corbin's hand ecstatically, a giddy smile on his face. "Behind me are Crawford and Blakely - they're my assistants."

"We're still Zac and Ruby," Liz laughed. Her expression turn serious, her desire to know taking over. "Pray tell, Mr Fenwick, what _is_ the Nephilim Project?"

Fenwick stared at her in shock, her sudden change in expression and tone startling him a little. Liz couldn't blame him; she'd been expecting to stay in character for at least an hour, but had failed in that department. Fenwick backed away from the duo, glanced at Verena.

"You have very serious friends," he noted. "I suppose you really want all the details you can get, then."

Verena only offered a nod and began to drag Liz and Corbin along with her, following Fenwick as Crawford and Blakely kept a close eye on them from behind. They passed through the dimly-lit lobby and arrived at a door at the end of the room, then walked through that door to find the ballroom the event had been held at. Liz felt a hand grip her arm like the man's had on that night, and a slight pain in her leg from the limp she'd previously had. She hoped that they would pass through the room quickly and get on to where they were going.

The passed through the roo eventually, making their way behind the stage Sir Top Hat had presented from. Backstage was a sort of metal door, bolted shut three times with multiple electrical locks to the side. Fenwick approached one lock and pressed his thumb onto a pad, then another and displayed his eyes. Two of the bolts slid open, leaving the third on in place.

"I must warn you," he said to them, "that what lies beyond this door is not for the weak-hearted."

Verena nodded confidently, and the Shadowhunters had no choice but to nod as well. Satisfied, Fenwick leaned toward the third and final lock, punching a few numbers with his thumb and then stepping away when the third lock slid open. He gestured for the teens to come inside first, allowing Verena to drag them in along with her. Liz did her best not to resist the girl's strang grip, but found that hard to accomplish once the screams and cries hit her ears. She stared on in shock, barely aware that Corbin was doing the same, and tried her hardest to figure out what the hell was going on. It was just one long hallway that split left and right at the end, a door staring them down like a silent predator. Along the hall were doors and windows, obviously made from reinforced glass to keep from being broken through. Liz glanced to her right as they passed one window, spotting a young boy covered in Marks as he tried to resist the people holding him down, injecting things into his blood. He looked around Jade's age, maybe younger. It was obvious he had only just completed his training, too. Liz paled and looked away.

"You okay, _Ruby_?" Verena asked under her breath. "Or do you have another name I can call you by? A _real_ one?"

Liz swallowed nervously and continued walking along, resisting the urge to cover her ears with her hands and start running down the hall, screaming for Amato. She couldn't let herself be discovered now, even if it hurt to ignore the pleas of her own people suffering.

They arrived at the door directly down the hall, Fenwick knocking three times before opening the door to reveal a fairly large office. In the office was Sir Top Hat himself, this time dressed in a classy suit with his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Sir Top Hat sighed and glanced up, rubbing his temples with his fingers soothingly. "What is it, Fenwick?" he demanded. The moment his eyes locked with Verena's he let out a small growl. "Miss Baumer, I assure you that I have nothing left to say about-"

"It's not about what _I_ want to know," Verena cut him off. "It's about what _they _want to know." She tugged on Liz and Corbin's arms a little more tightly, breaking Liz out of the shock of the previous sight she'd faced. What was going on?

Verena smirked and let go of the duo, taking three steps back before producing a phone from her pocket. She pointed the back of it at Liz and Corbin, who turned around to see what she was doing, and then pressed a button. A loud snap came from the phone, and then she was off. "I'm going to go talk to the one you brought in yesterday - he makes good conversation," she said. "Have fun with these two."

"Thank you, Miss Baumer," Sir Top Hat said tiredly. Once she was out the room and the door was closed behind her, Sir Top Hat narrowed his eyes and his expression took a sickly-sweet turn. "Crawford, Blakely," he ordered, "the boy."

Before either Shadowhunter could react, Crawford and Blakely launched at Corbin and seized him by the arms, throwing him to the floor before bending his arms behind him and sitting on his back. Liz went to help him, but was stopped when Sir Top Hat announced, "Fenwick, hold her down."

A heavy force crashed onto her, knocking off her glasses and messing with her wig. Her arms were held tightly behind her back as Fenwick pressed his weight onto her, and all she could do was sit there and wait for an oppertunity to fight back.

Sir Top Hat stood from his seat and walked around his desk, passing Corbin with a smug smirk as he did so. Corbin glared at him and tried to struggle against the two assistants, but even Liz could see that they were stronger than they appeared. He finally came to a stop before Liz and Fenwick, reaching down to remove the wig.

"I never thought I'd have you come for your father so quickly, little one," he said, twirling the wig in his hand. "Nor did I suspect you'd try to come in through a crowd of protestors." He shrugged lightly. "Must be my lucky day."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Liz shouted at him. He tsked at her and looked to Corbin, noticing how quiet he was being.

"You seem to be the patient one," he observed, squatting before the boy. Corbin offered a glance in his direction, but it was anything but curious. "Tell me, what's the name of the Italian man we found a few days ago?"

Corbin narrowed his eyes and stared at Sir Top Hat in silence, then replied quietly, "There's power in a name. I won't tell his name if you won't tell me yours."

There was more silence after that, followed by a loud guffaw from Sir Top Hat. He stood, the wig still in his hands, and paced the room with long strides. "You're a smart one, you are!" he marvelled. He stopped pacing on the opposite end of the room, turning to face the teens with a grin. A maniacal one, Liz thought. "My name is Samuel," he said. "Samuel Brown." Samuel then crouched down in front of Corbin, staring at him with intrigue. "Go on, give me his name," he urged.

Corbin set his jaw and ground out, "Amato."

"Amato _what_?" Samuel frowned at him, clearly wanting a surname. "What's his last name, boy?"

"You're a smart man," Corbin replied. "You have his daughter and sent us his ring. Figure it out yourself."

At that he silenced himself, refusing to speak any further. Samuel was less than pleased, brought his hand back and slammed it into the teen's cheek. A big red mark, shaped like a hand, covered the area, the clear imprints of knuckles darker than the rest. Corbin barely showed much of a reaction, though, and kept his defiant silence. Samuel stood and let out a frustrated breath, raked the now-trembling hand through his blonde hair, strands of grey mixing in with the golden locks. "Disrespectful little whelp," he snarled. He turned his gaze toward Liz, fury still in his eyes. "And you," he added. "You're lucky I haven't thrown you into a room across from your father's own. You're lucky I need you both as messengers."

He walked back to his desk and searched the drawers, pulling out a gun-like tool from one drawer and a pen and paper from another. He began to write furiously on the paper, then folded it and searched for an envelope. Once that task was done, he tucked the paper into the envelope and sealed it, writing a name on the front before standing with the tool. "When you wake up," he said, approaching Corbin first, "tell your people they can't hide forever."

Without warning, he pressed the barrel of the tool to Corbin's neck and pulled the trigger, an opaque and golden fluid Liz had not noticed before flowing into Corbin's veins. The boy struggled for a few seconds, but ever so slowly went limp, his breathing slow and shallow. Did the man hunting the Shadowhunters just drug her best friend? She was not going to stand for that! Giving him a back-handed slap was nothing - Corbin had been dealt worse blows by warlocks - but _drugging him _would not fly easily with Liz!

"_Giuro, Samuel Brown_," she growled, just as he approached her, "_io ti caccia e ottenere la mia vendetta per quello che stai facendo!_"

The barrel was poised against her neck, the trigger pulled, and then a dreamless sleep befell her.

* * *

Tanith shifted on her feet impatiently, staring out into the street. The four teens she had met with earlier today were still with her, the mundane talking with Crusoe as he tried to explain the concept of werewolves and full moons. Cass, the only girl of the group, had opted to join her, clearly worried about the two they were waiting for. Tanith couldn't blame her: If one of her own close friends was late after going to get information, she'd be assuming the worst as well. Hell, if it were even Crusoe who went missing, she'd be tearing the city apart - the pack needed its Alpha, period.

"Try callin' 'em," Tanith suggested, the one named George pacing past them for the tenth time. "I mean, y'all do have phones now, right? You actually use wireless communication?"

George froze, a confused look on his face as he replied, "What the hell is 'wireless'?"

Before Tanith could reply with a smartalecky retort, Cass placed a hand on her throat and let out a small breath. Almost immediately, George was at her side, questioning her. She and George were the _parabatai _of Mamoru and this Liz character they were waiting for. That meant George knew all the right questions to ask, all the right things to look out for in case of danger. It also meant Cass would know if her friends were dead or not - apparently one died a little on the inside when their _parabatai_ passed on; which, in Tanith's opinion, was kind of depressing. Instead of voicing this, she stood and stretched her legs, turning back to face Crusoe.

"I'm gonna go out and see what I can find," she told him. "I'm pretty sure I know the scent of a Nephilim after the amount of time I've been spendin' with these kids."

Crusoe stared at her with his amber eyes for a moment, his thoughts processing whether or not he should let her go. It didn't matter if he gave her permission to leave, though; she'd still go anyway. Finally, he nodded and returned to his conversation with Patrick, explaining once more the full moons and moving on to silver.

The Beta turned on her heel, ready to leave, but was stopped by the tall by with Cass. Tanith faced George, expecting him to stop her, but he instead told her, "Take Mamoru with you. He's the fastest of us, and you'll need the backup if those idiots decide to suddenly come after Downworlders tonight."

She raised a red brow at him, but did not argue. Instead she waited for his _parabatai_ to join her, for her hunting partner to leave with her. The Japanese boy stood from his seat away from everyone else and walked over to her in silence, his expression unreadable as he walked outside without her. Tanith had to admit that she was just a little bit curious about him. He spoke no words during the conversation they'd had at Taki's, nor had he offered any information when they made their way to the Falls Pack hideaway. To top it off, he kept his eye on everyone at once, seeming to do it effortlessly when everyone was moving around. Tanith had been tempted to ask him how he did it, especially when the wolf pack needed help keeping an eye on the younger kids before their first transformation.

The two left the building together, trying to decide which way to search first. Night had fallen quickly, the time escaping them, and Tanith was starting to see why Cass was so worried about her friends. Tanith let out a hum and glanced at the tall teen, frowning at the three inch difference between them. She didn't like how tall he was, even if he was shorter than his friend - he was still taller than her.

"I say we search the way we came," Mamoru suggested. "They could be trying to find us."

Tanith blinked, biting her lip in thought. Finally, she nodded and replied, "Good thinkin'. Just to make sure, I'll change into my wolf form to track their scents. Eyes an' ears alone won't help us." Mamoru nodded in understanding, waited patiently for her to do her thing. Tanith exhaled and ran for the side of the building, slipping into the alley before crouching behind a dumpster. She quickly stripped down, not wanting to feel the nip of the cold air, and dumped her clothes in the shadows. She felt her body heat up with the transformation, her skin itching as her bones changed shape and her claws extended. She closed her eyes, trying to drown out the minor pain, and soon fell to the ground on all-fours. She opened her eyes again, this time seeing from the eyes of a wolf.

Tanith sniffed the air for a moment, making sure she could smell clearly, and then trotted out to meet with Mamoru. He spotted her - or, really, the red wolf that was her - and nodded in the direction he'd suggested. Without dely, Tanith broke into a run with the boy behind her, her ears and nose alert for anything that could lead them to the two Shadowhunters.

* * *

**Phew - longest chapter I've written without checking how many words I've typed up. I feel proud :D**

**Once again, virtual brownies for whoever can guess this - who does Verena resemble in Shadowhunter history? Bet you won't get it right away *Grin***

**No songs in this chapter - I wrote it all in school at each moment I got.**


	9. 7: Awakening

She felt as light as air, floating among nothing, yet felt sluggish and slow. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, small pellets of rain falling onto her face. Everywhere hurt, most of all her arms and throat. She couldn't think clearly, her mind wandering easily, and Liz soon fought hard against herself to focus her vision. Where was she? She couldn't make head or tails of where, but that could've been the slow reaction she was experiencing. She seemed to be somewhere where it was raining, but she couldn't be sure.

Movement to her right caught her attention, but she was too heavy to turn and look at who was near. She heard a grunt, a cough, followed by a shaky breath that expressed how cold it was. Before long, the figure began to move toward her, shaking her arm lightly.

"Liz," he said, the drug showing through his voice. Corbin was slurring his words a little, but seemed more awake than she was. "Get up. Gotta move."

It was easier said than done to get up like he wanted. Her legs just couldn't move, and she could barely control her fingers. She let out a breath and tried to push herself up from the ground, but she didn't get far. As soon as her shoulders felt the strain, she ragdolled down to the ground again, feeling like a puppet cut from its strings. The rain landing in her eyes wasn't helping, either, and it felt as though she were stuck in a depressing scene in a book. _I've fallen and I cannot get up_, she thought, her inner voice whining like a child.

A pair of hands grasped her arm, lifting her slightly from the ground. She was up, almost to her feet, when Corbin stumbled back and fell against the wall, bringing her down with him. Well, at least now she wasn't lying on the pavement. The boy let out a small curse before attempting to stand again, but all that did was leave him with a sore head and a soon-to-be bump on his scalp.

Liz was beginning to get used to the feel of the rain, the small droplets falling in a sort of rhythm. She soon didn't care about the fact that they had no idea where they were, nor that they needed to get home and warn everyone. She just wanted to sleep.

And sleep she did.

* * *

_Losing the scent_, Tanith thought frantically. _Too much rain. Washing it away._

She skidded to a stop underneath the roof of a mundane cafe, shaking herself dry as Mamoru joined her silently. It had been only an hour after they'd began their search, a scent leading them to this area of New York, but Tanith had not been expecting the clouds to roll in so quickly. Rain had pelted down on them, shattering every bit of Liz and Corbin's scent as the water soaked the streets. Tanith cursed to herself and flicked her hind leg, snarling a little. She hated it when it rained; rain always stopped her from finding things. Lord knew what would happen if it rained every damn day of the year.

Warily, she cast a glance back at Mamoru to check on how he was doing, noticing that he was tangling his hands through his bleached hair with a frown. It was the most annoyed she'd seen him since meeting him at Taki's, but she got the feeling she'd be seeing a little more than annoyance if Liz and Corbin ended up with hypothermia. It was true that an _iratze_ would fix them up - it was no secret that the Shadowhunters managed to avoid common cold weather ailments after a good demon slaying - but something told Tanith that it wouldn't just be hypothermia biting at them when they'd be found.

With a huff and a whine, she laid herself on her stomach and watched the rainy streets before them. How long until it would let up? An hour? No, most likely more. The two hadn't been moving when Tanith had caught wind of their scent, so she figured they were either injured or hiding, and she hoped it wasn't any worse than that. From what she'd been told, she knew the kids were smart - apparently Corbin and Liz knew how to handle a situation. But she couldn't help but worry about how they'd be, especially if they'd ran into trouble earlier.

Mamoru shifted on his feet quietly, gazing into the cafe windows. Tanith ignored him for a moment, letting out a heavy breath, but soon paid him attention when he began walking out onto the road. She watched him with her bright yellow eyes, narrowing them as she tried to figure out what he was doing.

"The scent was in this area, right?" he asked her, pointing out toward a rather large street to his left. Tanith rose on all four of her feet and nodded, catching what he was hinting. "We'll split up and look for them. I'm used to finding people in the rain - Haruko used to love running around in this kind of weather - and I've no doubt you'll run a lot faster than me."

Tanith's eyes narrowed further. _Go on_, the gesture said. He nodded and looked to the street the scent ended at, forming a plan in his head. "We follow the path set before us, and when it splits we go in different directions. If we don't find anything before the rain lets up, we meet back here at" - he looked up at the sign hanging from the roof - "_Greene Garden_."

The werewolf nodded largely and trotted out from the dry area, joining Mamoru as he began to jog over to the street. It wasn't long before they ended up parting ways to search for the duo, Tanith heading right while Mamoru turned left. The Beta was fast as she ran through the streets that followed, her yellow eyes searching every corner of every building and alley.

An hour had passed without success, any sign of Liz and Corbin lost in the rain-soaked area as Tanith trotted sadly back to _Greene Garden_. The rain hadn't even begun to ease, and had instead poured down even harder. She hadn't anticipated such a heavy downpour, but neither had Crusoe or Mamoru. She shook her head as she backtracked through the first street she'd entered, where she and the Shadowhunter had split to widen their search, and it wasn't long until she heard the sounds of fast feet thumping against the ground. Her ears twitched, trying to lock on to the noise, and she soon recognised where it was coming from: Mamoru's direction. He'd either found them, or he was trying to escape the heavy rain like she was. Tanith would bet on the latter, considering that the scent had still been rather far away before the rain had settled in.

Out of nowhere, the Asian boy skidded to a stop at the pavement beside her, panting hard and he leaned on his knees to catch his breath. She'd heard of Shadowhunters being able to run for miles without breaking a sweat, but she knew that the cold air and the considerably light clothing he wore was too much for the boy in the current weather. On top of that, she'd no doubt that he'd ran non-stop in search of his fellow Nephilim, barely resting for a moment like Tanith had in order to survey the surroundings.

"Can't... Find them..." he panted. "Too much... Rain..."

Tanith could only nod in agreement and let out a whine before beginning to trot off again. They had no choice but to go back to the group and report the bad news, more so face the fact that soon enough Lucinda Evergreen would be knocking down Crusoe's door for answers - answers as to where her daughter was and how much Crusoe wanted to live to see the next day.

The two hurried back to the werewolf hideout, arriving back in little over ten minutes. Tanith passed the alley, remembering that her now-soaked clothes would be inside, and let out a loud huff of displeasure. She really liked the jacket she'd worn, too... As though sensing her frustration, Mamoru did the noble act of shrugging off his rain-soaked hoodie and held it out for her to take, opting to look away in case she decided to change back right there. Letting out a low grumble, she took the hoodie in her mouth and hurried down into the alley, changing back as fast as she could before pulling on the jacket. She felt thankful that Mamoru was much taller than her (mainly because she refused to admit how short she was), and scooped up her wet clothing to take back with her.

The moment they were inside, they were bombarded with questions.

* * *

It was dark when she woke up again, but the darkness felt forced, unnatural. It was as though someone had blindfolded her, had turned off the lights and sealed the windows. She could feel people moving around, but it was a very vague movement. She could only think of one kind of person that could do this, and immediately flew up into a sitting position. That was her first mistake. Pain surged through her entire body, a stabbing headache at the back of her head as she fell down into a foetal position. She laced her fingers through her hair and gritted her teeth, hearing a very smooth voice behind her talking with someone else.

"He's a rather pretty boy," she said. "But his blood is tainted with drugs. We wouldn't be able to take anything before an hour after awakening."

And there was her second mistake, although she wasn't sure how she'd done it. Somehow, Liz and Corbin had ended up in a vampire nest - one she was hoping _wasn't_ that damned hotel the Daylighter was Turned in. She was screwed if they were there.

"Big Brother," a Russian voice inquired, sounding young and innocent. "The girl's awake."

"Excellent. Thank you for watching her, Darrian. Would you please make sure that Elaine doesn't drink from her friend?"

There it was: The one voice that confirmed where she was. Demitri Rosanaugh was the second-in-command when it came to the New York vampires, and he usually hung out in Hotel Dumort with the other vampires during daylight hours. That had to mean that they were in a vampire nest, and they were defenseless. How the hell did she get there, anyway!?

A hand lightly stroked her cheek, and she opened her eyes slowly to see the face of Demitri grinning down at her. "I was worried for a moment," he said. "I thought I'd have to try and explain why you and Corbin were dead in the Hotel to Luce."

She let out a groan, trying to sit up again. Her body had other plans, though, and went limp the moment she removed her hands from her head. "How'd... Ge' here?" she slurred. Demitri laughed a little, shrugging as he helped her up. Her legs were a little wobbly, and she had to rely on Demitri to keep her upright.

"Let's just say a certain someone found you two not far from here and brought you back," he mused, carrying her toward what appeared to be a door to the next room. "It was raining pretty bad outside, and when Darrian said she found two Shadowhunters outside while on her hunt, I just had to investigate. Who'd have guessed my find would be so lovely?"

"Sh' up..."

He laughed again, then out of nowhere hoisted her over his shoulder. It certainly made moving around easier, but Liz felt a little saddened by the fact that she was being carried around like luggage. Demitri bent down and picked up something else, hoisting it over his other shoulder; it took Liz a moment to realise it was a barely-conscious Corbin, appearing unharmed and a little damp from the rain. All in all, she was glad he hadn't been bitten yet.

"Better take you two home," Demitri said lightly. "_Or_ I could take you to Magnus so that he can fix you up."

Out of going home to face Lucinda's wrath and going to Magnus's to be snuggled by a cat and treated to free coffee, Liz had to go with the latter option. She tapped his back twice, letting him know which one she wanted to go with, and soon enough the cold breeze of the night air was upon them. Wind whipped around them, but it soon died down and she felt the rise and fall of Demitri's feet along the pavement. Before long, he released her legs and left her dangling over his shoulder, his hand reaching for something in front of him. There was a buzz, followed by a door unlocking, and Liz was met by a very annoyed, "Demitri! What did I tell you about bringing unconscious people to my doorstep?"

Nevertheless Demitri appeared to be granted entry, and it wasn't long before Magnus ordered him to take the two Shadowhunters into the spare room. Demitri began to walk toward the hall of Magnus's apartment and turned on the third door on the left. He nudged it open with his foot, walking in casually before carely laying Liz and Corbin on the queen bed on the other side of the room. He just knew that Corbin would freak out over being put in the same bed as a girl, but Demitri couldn't resist it - he and Magnus found it so funny when he got flustered over such a thing.

As he left the room he noticed that the girl had fallen unconscious once more, her breathing steady and deep like Corbin's. He smiled a little, reminded of how Darrian used to do the same thing when they were human; when they were required to breathe to live. Demitri winced at the thought of being human, a distant memory in the back of his mind, and turned to leave the room. He closed the door behind him and joined Magnus in the kitchen, spotting a certain Fey sitting at the table in the makeshift dining room.

"Melody," he greated with a charming smile. She smirked back at him and winked, returning to the glass of water in front of her. Demitri would've taken that moment to either leave or flirt with Mel, but Magnus garbbed his arm tightly and shoved him into a chair next to Mel's, frowning at the vampire.

"Demitri." There wasn't anger in his voice, but it was said without affection. If anything, Magnus sounded tired and frustrated. "Care to tell me why the Evergreen girl is unconscious in my house with her timid friend?"

Being entirely honest, Demitri shrugged. "Darrian found them and was concerned, so I brought them inside Dumort and dried them off, then decided to bring them to you." He frowned a little, leaning back in the chair. "Everyone complained of smelling a drug in them, so no one took a bite out of them. However, I am a little concerned; they appeared to have been in their spot for a while, and it was a good hour and a half before Liz could even figure out she in indoors. Whatever they were drugged with, it was strong - no one wanted to touch them."

"And where did Darrian find them?"

"A mile away from the Hotel. I brought them back before it got colder. At least I think I did - hard to tell when you're always cold."

Magnus sighed and sank into a chair, rubbing his temples as he let out a breath. The warlock was definitely frustrated, Demitri decided, and he felt it wise to leave him with one less guest. Bidding Magnus farewell, he rose from his seat and told him he would contact Lucinda about the whereabouts of Liz and Corbin. Magnus replied with a sarcastic "hooray" and waved him away, shooing him out of the apartment with the threat to light him on fire.

As Magnus debated to himself with Mel, Corbin had slowly been coming to in the spare room, wondering who the figure in front of him was as his blurred vision cleared bit by bit. He knew he was on a bed, more so a big bed, but his recollection was a little foggy. How did he even get into the bed? Who was with him? Why did the back of his head hurt so much, more so his neck? At first he panicked that he'd been bitten by a vampire, but after feeling it with a sluggish hand he confirmed that it was just an ache. That still left the mystery of his sore head and the unknown person with him, though.

He sat up slightly, his fingers tangled in something thin and silky. He lifted it up slightly, making out some kind of brown colour in the dim room, and soon realised that this something was attached to the person. He realised it was hair - rather long hair, in his opinion - and thought back to who he knew with long brown hair. After a moment of thinking and a quick flashback of a certain Samuel Brown knocking him unconscious, Corbin came to realise who was in the bed with him.

_Oh, sh- Freakin- Crap!_

He tumbled out of the bed and fell onto his back, hitting the floor ungracefully and rousing Liz at the same time, a small groan coming from her as he tried to stop the room from spinning. He saw her sit up and look around, then stood and moved a little away from the bed in hopes of getting a bit of distance.

"What the?" she muttered, trying to figure out where they were. "What happened to Dumort?"

Corbin's eyes went wide, the word Dumort setting him off. "Wait, we were in a vampire nest?" he demanded, leaning against the wall to keep his balance. Liz nodded and tried to crawl out of bed, only to pull the same stunt Corbin had a moment ago. Footsteps from outside the room alerted them that someone was coming, and the two quickly tried to find something to use for a fight. They failed in staying steady on their legs, though, and fell to the floor just as the door opened.

Magnus Bane stood in the doorway, his hand reaching for the wall on his left. Before the teens could stop him, he rapidly switched the light on and off, causing the two to curl into balls and cover their eyes. They rolled on the floor with unexpected energy, the bright light burning their vision.

"Stop, please!" Liz yelled. "I'm having a seizure!"

A scoff came from Magnus. "Don't be so dramatic," he growled. He then stopped, leaving the light off and allowing them to recover. They were certainly awake now, that was for sure. "Get in the kitchen and tell me everything within the next five minutes, and I'll defend your case against your mother."

"But-"

"Not buts!" He left the room at that, marching back down the hall. He paused along the way, a thought coming to him, and he quickly added, "And if I find out you're mucking about or even canoodling, I will hit the lights again!"

By this point Liz had recovered enough to pull off her shoe and pelt it weakly at someone or something. She was just out of luck that Magnus was gone and out of her line of sight. _Cadnoodling, _she thought angrily. _Who uses that word nowadays? _She let out a breath and straightened her jacket, feeling a bit of water drip off of her clothing. It wasn't until she actually turned and looked to Corbin in hopes of forming a plan, in hopes of finding out what they should say, that she remembered what "canoodling" meant.

"_Magnus!_"

* * *

**Chapter! And a list of songs I listened to while writing it!**

**1. Mountain Sound - Of Monsters and Men**

**2. Gentlemen - PSY**

**3. Pewdiepie Theme - DJ Fortify**

**4. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light 'Em Up) - Fall Out Boy**

**5. Skyfall - Adele (Nightcore ver.)**


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